


The evening light

by Itisariddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-04-27 08:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14421576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itisariddle/pseuds/Itisariddle
Summary: Three years have past after the war and for Hermione Granger life has come to a screeching halt. She moves to Amsterdam to get away from her demons only to stumble on a new one. Post-war, SS/HGWarning:This will not be a happy fic but it will have a happy end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have started, wrote, rewrote, tossed away and cursed this fic over and over again for the past four years if not longer. I have become a better writer in the process (I hope) but the idea has not let go of me and I feel like if there is a story I need to write than it is this story. I have no update schedule, no next chapter written no nothing at the moment but I know one thing. This fic will get written. I hope you’ll read along as I continue my struggle with this story.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing JKR does 
> 
> Necessary warning: Apart from obviously being my own interpretation of the characters and the canon this fic WILL put our beloved pair through a whole lot of messy, sometimes permanent pain. I like watching them suffer, you have been warned. 
> 
> Also, I am working without a beta on this thing so all the mistakes are mine. 
> 
> For the core four who believed in me: @dust2dust-34. @colubrina, @ibuzoo, @dissilusionist9

“Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.” - John Green

“So wake me up when it's all over. When I'm wiser and I'm older” -Avicii

 

Amsterdam was once again full of tourists. Severus Snape maneuvered himself in between a group of screaming kids scowling at all of them. The bag with apples he held hit one of the kids in the shin and she glared at him, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again looking at him with narrowed eyes. _Fuck you too._

He had no time to deal with stupid tourists. He was lost. Truly and terribly lost for the first time in the three years that he had been in this city. Amsterdam was a delicately crafted maze and he had learned to navigate it quite quickly but now he had no idea what the street he was in was even called or where it would lead him.

He decided to follow it anyway, there was not much to it, at some point the canal he was currently following would bring him to something recognizable. The sun shone embarrassingly brightly for this late in august, dancing on the water next to him as if trying to taunt him into jumping. The air was filled with the coming of rain though and Snape had no desire to wait until it hit. He followed the canal until it brought him to an even busier street one filled with café’s and shops. He cursed himself for not having a wand on him. A simple spell would have told him exactly where he was.

He was still deciding what to do about his situation when the world stopped.

One minute he was looking around for something familiar, something to help him determine a way home, the next Hermione Granger was sitting in the café window across from him.

Recognizing her was painful. The bag fell from his hand and apples thumped everywhere, on the pavement, the biker’s path and into the water behind him. Severus stood frozen, knowing that he needed to move and move fast before the girl looked up, but his mind had come to a halt providing him only with a line of single ‘no’ which was not very helpful. He wanted to run inside and shake the girl making her disappear. He was going to be sick. He shivered, tried to take his eyes away from her and found it impossible.

There was no doubt that it was her. She was older, thinner, more weary looking but the bushy hair was the same as was the way she signaled the waiter waving her hand in the air impatiently. He didn’t recognize her companion, a blond girl, beautiful and cheery with no touch of war upon her. She turned towards the waiter and was smiling at him. Granger on the other hand looked exactly like war. He could see her tense, aware of his staring, her hand touched her side pocket and he knew it was where she kept her wand. She was sitting straight, her shoulders stiff and rigid commanding something out of the poor waiter in a way that made the man take a step back.

In his mind’s eye Snape saw her covered in blood and dirt running from curses and firing her own, a child still but one that had forgotten how to be a child a long time ago. He saw her standing over him with the Weasley boy, a calculating look on her face at first, then one of horror as she saw all the blood. He saw her raise her wand, produce a flask from thin air and force it into Potter’s shaking hands as he sat there dumbfounded and useless. He saw his memories being collected into that flask and remembered the feeling of freedom that had come over him then.

Snape realized his teeth were chattering and that he was shaking and forced himself to stop, forced the images out of his head and when the girl looked up and saw him he forced himself to run. He ran until his sides hurt, unaware of anything around him except for the girl in the window and her eyes widening in what he knew to be recognition.

*

He ran until he no longer could catch a breath, until his body hurt and he was forced to stop and sit on the ground and wait for his lungs to stop hurting. He looked around, now at least he knew where he was and he thanked his instincts for finally deciding to kick in and bring him here. His head felt remarkably clear for once, he forced away the memories that were threatening to overcome him again. It was an easy trick like picking up a bike after not having ridden it for a while. Occlumency was second nature to him and right now it was useful. He needed to think about what to do next and he couldn’t think with Hermione Granger’s face in his head. He stood up and crossed the street.

The building he was standing in front of looked rather unremarkable, crammed in between older and more beautiful looking ones but this building had a particular trait, it was partly invisible for muggles. To a muggle’s eye the building just stopped as if it was cut in half. He had seen tourists and even locals walk around it often enough to see how the trick worked. Of course there was no trick to speak of, Amsterdam’s magical community just didn’t bother with hiding. Severus stepped inside and immediately bumped against the front desk behind which sat a portly looking graying wizard with an enormous mustache.

‘Good afternoon how may I help you?’ he asked in one breath without looking up from his paper. Besides the front desk the room consisted of a hallway with several doors of which half were closed. He could hear vacuuming behind one of the open doors. The room reminded him of the Beatles movie he saw as a child once, the one where the four members of the band ran around a corridor much like this one.

‘I can use the flue network from here yes?’ Severus asked trying to keep his voice level.

The man behind the counter looked up and studied him.

‘British?’ he asked switching to English immediately ‘If you want to contact your Ministry of Magic I would suggest the municipality, it’s right here around the corner just use the wizarding entrance.’

He glanced at Snape once more and then returned to his paper.

‘No I want to call a private person.’ Snape said, rolling his eyes at the man he hated the Dutch costume of switching to English as soon as they heard his accent. The portly wizard gave Snape an annoyed look, put away the newspaper and produced a wand.

‘Let me check my list’ he said. A wave of his wand and there a list was, the wizard unrolled it putting on glasses ‘We have a number of private British citizens on the books here who would you wish to call upon?’

‘The Malfoy residence.’ Snape said waiting for the inevitable intake of breath. But the wizard merely continued to study his list.

‘I’ll need your name, sir’ he said after a moment holding a finger at a particular place on the parchment ‘To be able to place the call.’

‘Brian Bishop.’

‘Very well mister Bishop, have you used our networks before you know how everything works?’

‘I’ll figure it out’ Snape said ‘I only have muggle money on me thought is that a problem?’ He felt exposed, no magic money no wand just him in his old denims while the walls of this place closed in and somewhere Hermione Granger was ringing alarms. He closed his eyes, he needed only to breath, stay calm talk to Narcissa and see exactly how much trouble he was in. If he knew that he would also know how to act and perhaps this tightness in his chest would disappear.

‘Not a problem mister Bishop’ the wizard said. He had departed from his newspaper and list completely now his attention firmly on a paying costumer. A stupid costumer who didn’t even change his money yet but a paying one none the less. Snape saw these thoughts pass on the man’s face as he waited.

‘I will place the call for you now would you like some coffee while you wait?’

‘No thank you’ Snape said. He watched the wizard disappear and studied his surroundings. The exit was behind him which was a good thing, he could, if necessary, also try and go for the large window on his right. If the man returned having called Aurors and not Malfoy Manor there was at least one escape route he could try. Otherwise he would have to fight his way out which would be unfortunate.

‘You can take the first cabin on your left’ the wizard said returning with a cup in his hands. He placed it in front of him and buried himself in his newspaper again. Snape didn’t move. After a moment the portly wizard looked up from his paper.

‘Anything I can do for you sir?’ he asked, annoyed.

‘No’ Snape said forcing himself to move.

The wizard watched him across the hall to the first door on the left with a weary look now.

The room was empty apart from an old looking fireplace. The fire inside flared green when Snape closed the door behind him and Narcissa Malfoy’s head appeared in the flames. She looked as beautiful as ever, healthy and radiating but her eyes were dull and as she regarded Severus he could see the lines in her face that were new and how they were making her look worried and haggard.

‘You changed your name again’ she said by way of greeting watching him ‘I almost declined to take the call.’

‘I’m glad you did take it’ Snape said crouching down before the fire ‘Perhaps you can enlighten me as to what t _he bloody hell_ Hermione Granger is doing here?’

Narcissa looked at him steadily ‘Hermione Granger is in Amsterdam?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are certain?’

Snape rolled his eyes ‘Stop playing games Narcissa, I don’t know what you think you are gaining from this but we had a deal.’

This time he saw a flash of anger cross her face ‘I am aware of our deal Severus, I can assure you the fact that Hermione Granger is in the same city as you is a mere coincidence that has nothing to do with me. This is unfortunate. Has the girl seen you?’

‘A coincidence?’ Snape asked ‘You mean to tell me you didn’t know? You?’

‘Hermione Granger and myself are in different social circles’ Narcissa said calmly ‘I have no way of knowing what goes on inside that girl’s mind nor do I need to know much about her. Fortunately enough. And what would I gain from telling her you are alive? What would I gain from telling anyone? I arranged your funeral, made certain your will was found. You are dead and for the sake of my son you need to remain dead.’

‘For the sake of your son, you think I wouldn’t do- You still think I have no care for Draco’s interests?’ He swallowed the rest of the words that were threatening to come to the service, mean words that would cost him this last connection to the wizarding world he had grown up in. How could she think he did not care for Draco?

 

‘Is it money you need?’ Narcissa asked, ignoring him.

‘Money? When have I ever taken your money?’ he knew he was shouting but there was no helping it.

Narcissa gave him a look that made him sixteen again, sixteen and sitting on Lucius’s couch in his shabby second hand clothes.

‘You said the girl saw you? That means you’ll have to leave the city.’

Snape sighed ‘You expect me to run.’

‘I expect you to do the right thing. If you cannot be found the girl will yell about what she saw or what she thinks she saw for a little while and after that people will get on with their lives. I can discredit her quite thoroughly if the wrong people start believing her.’

‘I won’t run Narcissa’ He was suddenly very calm, the tightness in his chest left and he could breath freely again marveling at how decision could change so much. He was not going to run because he was not a coward, Narcissa Malfoy should know that. It was clear, simple.

Narcissa stared at him from the flames, for a time neither said anything.

‘Draco is getting married.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘He is excited’ she said and he heard in her conversational tone the worry he had heard so often when Draco was a boy, climbing trees and falling off brooms. _My son, my only son_. She was not there yet but the lines in her face betrayed the start of that same panic. Severus stood and walked over to lean against the opposite wall forcing Narcissa to loop up art him.

‘He is going get married Severus, he is going to have a party and watch a girl in a white dress walk towards him with her hair loose. He is going to take over the Mansion. He is going to raise his family in the same house he was raised in. What he _is not going to do_ is testify at your trial. People are forgetting, they might even forgive. I will not risk everything because you are too proud to run from Hermione Granger. We had a deal. You stay dead and you stay the hell away from my son.’

‘I assure you I have no wish of being the surprise guest at Draco’s wedding’ Snape said drily.

‘Then do the right thing.’

‘I have no wish to return to Britain either.’

‘So you’ll leave’ there was suspicion in her voice rather than relive and Snape looked away from her.

‘The girl might not wish to come after me’ he lied.

There was no way Hermione Granger was going to let this go, no way she would stop looking, stop asking questions. But talking to Narcissa Malfoy had made Snape realize that seeing the girl was not coincidence at all. He had escaped his trial, ran from it like he had run from the hospital where they had wanted to close up his wounds and heal him from Nagini’s venom and earlier he had run from Minerva, from the school, from the Dark Lord and from Lily. He had run all his life in a way, towards something and from something else. The woman in the fire with her visions of the future had convinced him to stop. It was time to take his punishment. He had no idea why that punishment would come in the form of a spiteful, angry muggle born witch but he could see the irony in that.

‘Severus, please.’ He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. The calmness in his mind threated to give way and he took a moment strengthening the walls that were keeping it all at bay and thanking whatever gods there were for Occlumency. When he opened his eyes again Narcissa was staring at him.

‘I can make life difficult for you Severus.’

He smirked ‘What life Narcissa? I’m dead, as you said yourself it benefits everyone if I remain that way. I shouldn’t have bothered you. The girl is a mere inconvenience I can see that now.’

She looked skeptical but he merely smiled. There was a knock on the door and another wizard younger this time with a bright crop of white blond hair stuck his head through the door. ‘Your first ten minutes are up mister Bishop, I am supposed to warn you that the fee will go up if you continue the call.’

‘It’s fine’ Severus said ‘We were done anyway.’

‘We were not’ Narcissa said.

‘We were. I told you I shouldn’t have bothered you.’

The blond wizard looked form the head in the fire to the costumer and decided to follow the money.

‘I’ll sever the connection in a minute then.’

‘I’ll keep you informed’ Snape said to the head in the fireplace and watched her disappear.

He walked out paid the young man and wished the older one a pleasant day then stopped in the doorway.

‘Can either of you tell me where I can buy copies of the Prophet? Old ones preferably from the last three years?’ The young man looked over to his colleague

‘Municipally’ the old man muttered looking up from his paper. The annoyance on his face was almost comical now.

‘Thank you’ Snape said. Outside it had started raining. He looked up at the angry sky and continued on his way to the Municipally, it couldn’t hurt to know thy enemy so to speak. It would be interesting to see what Hermione Granger had been up to for the last three years the Prophet would give him that. He suddenly realized his hands were empty and made a mental note to also pick up more apples on the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello lovely readers. First off thanks for the support on the first chapter of this story. I wasn’t expecting reviews and I am very glad to have gotten them. Thank you! 
> 
> I was worried posting this chapter as the story is unfolding in the same way it had done in my earlier drafts which means we get…well this. I am again going to warn off those who cannot handle the characters in permanent pain. And again warning: I work without a beta on this. 
> 
> I haven’t planned more updates for now I am returning to work and I also want to work on And now the last as I contemplate what to do with chapter 3. I’ll try to be back soon though, so far the posting and writing of this has been a joy. Thanks for sticking with me.

Days passed without anything happening. Instead of calming down however Snape found himself becoming increasingly more restless. She should have come for him, she should have been here already. With a disgusted look on her face and questions on her lips. She should have been here, he was counting on her being here. '

He took a sip from the bottle of water in his hand and switched on the radio. A male voice was singing of Suzanne but this time in Dutch. He switched the radio off. The air in the apartment was stiff and clammy and he felt as if he was slowly choking on a mix of anticipation, terror and something close to shame. 

He cursed aloud, startled by the sound of his own voice in the empty room. Sighing he pocketed his wand, put on an old jacket against the chill and set out to find her himself. 

It took a while to locate the café in which he had seen her. The streets were more empty this time in the evening and he belatedly realized that the café would be closed and that he had no idea where else to look for her. He didn’t examine why he was looking for her, that would have meant going over memories best left forgotten. She had seen him he had no doubt of that and seeing as how there had been no Aurors at his door and mercifully, no Potter he assumed that something was wring with her. That idea was somehow painful, he had spent half his life making sure that there was nothing wrong with Potter and by default with her as well and now not knowing what has happening with her made him feel like he failed.

The café was indeed closed when he reached it, emptiness stared at him through the dark window and he shivered involuntarily. When the body-bind hit him his mind registered the spell first and only then allowed for a slight panic. He stood perfectly still and unable to move anything, even his eyes. Panic ebbed away to be replaced by anger at himself first for not seeing this coming, at the stupid chit for having aimed right.

‘There you are again’ Granger’s voice said from behind him ‘Took you longer this time.’

He had no idea what she was talking about but that didn’t matter, what mattered was getting free, getting to safety, stopping his brain from running in every direction. '

‘I am going to release you’ she said pointing her wand at him ‘and when I do you will not run away. I will hurt you if you do.’ She walked around him and into his line of sight, she was dressed in a pair of denims and a wide shirt with long sleeves and she glared at him from under her messy curls. Snape stood there unable to move still, cursing her and himself and trying not to see how thin she was. It was none of his business and he was a damn fool letting his guard down, not even noticing her. He had been ambushed like a first year and by who? Hermione fucking Granger who had no business even being here. 

When she released the spell he reacted on instinct and anger alone. One minute he was bound, the muscles in his legs cramping painfully and the next his wand was in his hand and Granger’s wand too and the girl was sitting on the ground bleeding from a cut in her cheek that had split open her lip as well. 

Snape blinked, startled at the sight of blood. He didn’t even register using magic but here he was with a wand in his hand that did not belong to him and a victim in his sights. Just like old times. He set his teeth and walked towards her with the vague idea of helping her back to her feet. He didn’t like the idea of hurting someone innocent, in so far as Granger could be considered an innocent that was. She glared at him wiping the blood from her lip.

Why was it always that spell? He knew other damn spells why did he always, always go for that one? Granger got to her feet all on her own while he was still debating whether or not to help her. She balled her fists and for a second he thought she was going to attack him still even without a wand. He put up his hands trying to stop her. A man on a bike past the two of them and looked over his shoulder his eyebrows raised. 

‘Granger’ he said slowly ‘Granger? Are you all right? I-I didn’t me-‘ he bit his tongue. I didn’t mean to. No better not go there. ‘Let me heal that.’

She wiped the blood off her cheek ‘My wand.’ He placed it in her outstretched hand carefully. She pointed it at him again. 

‘Granger-‘

‘Start moving’ she said ‘There are too many Muggles here wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Where are we going?’'

‘There’s a park nearby, it ought to be empty or as good as. We can…talk there. You owe me at least a talk now that you’ve attacked me.’

He glanced at her then decided that it would be better to at least get her away from Muggles first and then deal with whatever was coming. She poked her wand against his bad shoulder and he almost winced. '

‘I didn’t mean to attack you and might I remind you the body- bind was your idea.’

‘Move’ she said.'

They walked in silence for a while both ignoring the curious looks they got. When they reached the park he stopped, glancing at her. 

‘What did you mean ‘again’?’ he asked. He tried to take the measure of her, his opponent, figuring that she would attack him the minute they were under the protection of the trees surrounding the small park and found he could not. This woman and the Hermione Granger he remembered only seemed to have a name in common. Her cheek was still bleeding and he felt a sharp pang of guilt at that. First time seeing someone from back then and there was immediately blood again. '

‘You stalked me to that café twice before’ she said ‘usually during opening hours though. Keep moving.’

Snape frowned, he had no idea what she meant. He couldn’t remember, which was not a good sign. He blinked, trying to remember anything from the time he had seen her through the café window. There was a conversation with Narcissa that he vaguely could recall and after that not much. Flashes of sitting in the dark on the floor of his apartment, the frantic search for his wand that he had placed inside a book of all places and then forgot and the constant feeling that she was coming for him, that Potter was coming for him and later Dumbledore and Voldemort and of course as usual Black and Lupin and again Potter…He set his teeth, he couldn’t even recall what day today was now that he thought about it. Great… The last time he had lost time like this Voldemort had still bene alive.

The park was indeed empty and dark as they entered it, the surrounding trees sheltering it from what was left of the sunlight. She walked on and he followed her until they reached the monument this park was famous for. A large square of broken mirror with a plaque next to it. She glanced at him then looked into the mirror. 

He could take wand stun her, wipe her memories. Instead he walked over to the nearest bench and sat on it. 

‘I don’t remember-‘ he started saying then fell silent again. Granger glanced his way. 

‘The sky remains forever violated’ she said softly.

‘What?’

She gestured at the monument ‘It’s what the monument means. I made Gabrielle explain it to me. It’s meant as a reminder of war, no more Auschwitz. No more unbroken sky in this place. It’s rather poetic but untrue’ she smirked in an uncharacteristic way ‘It’s not the sky that is forever broken is it?’

‘You don’t seem particularly surprised to find me still breathing’ Snape said. He had no intention of discussing the mirror or what it had done to him the first time he had set foot into this park by mistake. It was unsettling enough to look at Granger and be reminded of himself. 

She shrugged still looking at herself through the broken mirror. ‘I put two and two together some time ago’ she glanced at him ‘How should I address you? Professor seems not to fit anymore.’  
‘Potioneers are addressed as master’ he said to see how she would react. 

She rolled her eyes ‘Severus it is then. As I said I put two and two together. McGonagall having trouble to enter the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts after the final battle, no portrait, the way the Aurors had to fight their way into your house with all the defensive spells still working’ she shrugged ‘When Narcissa Malfoy held that idiotic funeral I became certain you were still alive.’

Snape frowned ‘So what? You told all your little friends and no one would listen?’ he wanted to say that, wanted to sound bored and uncaring but somehow the words got stuck in his throat and what he heard himself saying was something completely different and not at all voluntary.

‘Did you tell Potter?’'

She turned to him with raised eyebrows ‘Harry? I have no intention of telling anything to Harry. I have no intention of letting you anywhere near Harry.’

‘Then what is it you want?’ Snape asked feeling angry at how relieved he felt. 

‘Do you plan to return to Britain? Is that why you showed yourself to me?’ she asked facing him once more and all but poking him with her wand. 

Snape huffed ‘Showed myself? I had no intention of showing myself to anyone Granger, seeing you in that café was pure coincidence’ he stood ‘Look we’re clearly both thrilled to see each other so let’s just call it what it is, shit luck and get back to-‘

‘Sit back down’ the anger in her voice made him obey. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. ‘You had your chance to walk away from this. But then you started coming back to that café, following me.’

He swallowed ‘I have no memory of that.’

Granger glared at him ‘That’s your excuse? Honestly?’

‘It’s the truth’ he shrugged ‘I have…moments where I forget.’

‘Lucky you’ she spat.

He looked at her. There was still blood coming from the cut on her cheek, she had stopped wiping it away. 

‘Let me heal that’ he said again ‘Before it leaves a scar.’ 

‘Before it leaves a scar’ she mimicked then lowered her wand, yanked up the sleeve and shoved her arm at him. Snape stared at the scarring on her right forearm until they started to form a word, until the meaning of the word reached his brain. Mudblood.

He looked from the scarring to her again. The rage in her face was fading but her face still was distorted with it, she was shivering holding her wand in such a tight grip her knuckles were white.   
‘What happened to you?’ he whispered. He didn’t mean the scarring, he had seen Bellatrix torture one too many times. He didn’t even mean after the war. He had a pretty good idea of that, the Prophet had provided him with plenty information. She had gone to Australia as soon as the hospital cleared her for long distance travel. Returned a half year later without an explanation and married the Weasley boy, that marriage failed, predictably, lasting only a year. Then came a number of odd jobs at the Ministry and finally the flight back to Hogwarts. But by the time that happened the Prophet had lost interest in her and all Snape had was a small photograph of her back in her student’s robes. 

It was a tough couple of years and he had expected them and the war to have left a mark on her but he was unprepared for this much anger. She was broken in a way he recognized and that unsettled him. He watched as she pulled back her sleeve hiding the word on her arm and wiped away at the blood on her cheek. 

‘Bellatrix happened’ she said ‘ What’s the incantation to cure this?’

‘Vulnera Senentur’ he said ‘You have to sing it. Out loud.’

She nodded ‘Yes I remember Harry telling us you sang something’ she said. She cleaned the cut before closing it and Snape was struck by irritation at other people carelessly using the spells he had spent months developing. 

‘Glaring at me won’t get you out of this’ Granger said.'

‘I’m not trying to get out of this’ he said ‘I still owe you.’ 

‘Owe me?’ for a moment her face became confused, curious and he recognized a glimpse of the girl he had taught a lifetime ago ‘You mean for not telling anyone about you? That was in their own interest.’'

‘I mean for the flask.’

‘What flask?’

‘The one you conjured up while Potter being the idiot that he is did nothing. You’ he paused to try and get the words out ‘Because of you I was able to get the memories to Potter. I owe you, I’d like not to. So what is it you want? You have questions?’

She stared at him, then looked back to the broken mirror. Some of the fight seemed to have gone out of her, she still had her wand on him but he was fairly certain he could take it off her now should he want to. The cut on her cheek had healed well. '

‘I thought I had questions’ she said looking at the mirror ‘Then I thought I just wanted to yell at someone responsible for what all of you did to Harry-'

‘Might I suggest yelling at Albus then?’ he said ‘I had little to do-'

‘You can stop there’ she said and the sharp edge was back in her voice ‘You are all responsible. We were children.’

He didn’t know how to argue with that. 

She shrugged ‘That’s the thing, I thought I wanted to but now, I don’t feel like yelling anymore. I don’t know what I want from you. Nothing perhaps’ she smirked again in that new way of hers. He didn’t like that look ‘A bit anticlimactic no?’'

Snape sighed ‘How about you stop pocking me with that stick and we get out of here? Get to some place more…civilized? Then if you decide there is no way in which I can repay the debt I owe you well’ he let the sentence hang in the air between them. He wasn’t used to being this truthful but he couldn’t figure out a logical reason to lie to her and she was right in one regard. His life had turned out to be a bit of an anticlimax. He should have died but he didn’t and now he had to live with that. 

Granger turned back to him ‘Are serious? You truly think you owe me some debt?’

He shrugged ‘Did you forget how magic works?’ 

‘I didn’t safe your life, you owe me nothing?’'

‘You helped complete my life’s work, it’s close enough. I have no intention of owing another person I cannot stand another debt so be a good Gryffindor and do the noble thing.’

She huffed at that then frowned ‘Letting you go would be too easy, you are right in that regard.’ She sighed ‘Fine. I do want to talk to you, yell at you maybe. Perhaps this could set Harry’s mind at ease.’  
‘ Yes, we are still doing everything for Potter’ he mumbled ‘Knock yourself out. Just not here, I hate this place.’

‘I don’t. But fine, there must be an open bar somewhere around here. You’re paying.’

‘As the lady wishes’ he said standing up. He watched her pocket her wand in a holster on her arm before leading the way out of the park.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Infinite thanks to Colubrina for beta reading this.

Hermione walked out of the small park with sure strides. The anger inside her churned but she had gotten used to that feeling buy now. She’d been angry for the past three years.

She’d wanted to let out some of that on Severus Snape. Only the man walking a couple of paces behind her at the moment wasn’t it, not exactly. She had wanted billowing robes and angry sarcasm. She’d wanted power and dominance, she’d wanted him to rage at her so that she would be able to crush that rage, that power, to crush him.

Instead she watched him lean against the wall of some house they had been passing, sigh, and close his eyes. He seemed diminished in his muggle outfit. When had he gotten this… small? Even his voice was different, softer, less suited to him. Her eyes darted over to the collar of his shirt above which the start of two scars were visible. She walked over to where he stood, more confused than angry at this point.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked, her hand reaching for her wand just in case this was some sort of trick.

‘Headache’ he muttered pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s mild so I am fairly certain I’ll survive.’ His eyes opened and he studied her. ‘Perhaps a bar is not the most sane idea. You still wish to kill me and I’d prefer there to be no witnesses.’

‘Get out of my head’ Hermione hissed. She felt like throttling him. 

‘I’m not in your head, it’s on your face. If I were to use legilimency on you, you’d know. Trust me.’

‘Trust you?’

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her an annoyed look. ‘Poor choice of words.’

Hermione frowned, watching him with narrowed eyes. ‘Harry does, you know. Trust you’ she said ‘Those memories you left him. It’s like he flipped a switch. According to him, you’re some kind of hero now.’

‘You don’t share that opinion?’ Snape asked sounding genuinely interested as far as she could judge.

‘Memories can be faked’ Hermione said ‘Slughorn faked his.’

To her surprise Snape’s eyes lit up. ‘One point to Gryffindor’ he muttered, glancing at her, the corners of his lips twitching.

Hermione turned from him and continued walking. An alarm sounded and she saw one of the bridges crossing the canal start to open to allow a barge to pass through.

‘Is that you admitting you faked your memories?’ she asked when Snape joined her to watch.

‘No’ he replied with a finality in his tone that made her look up at him. ‘But you show ability for critical thought, unlike Potter. You are right I could have faked them. I know how to. But I didn’t.’

‘So it’s true then?’ she hesitated ‘Lily?’

‘What’s he doing? Renting them out like a motion picture? Come see the incredible tale?’ he spat on the ground.

Hermione fought the instinct to step back from him, to reach for her wand. For a second he looked as demented with rage as he had looked in the Shrieking Shack in her third year. But this was Harry they were talking about and whatever her instincts were telling her she knew, rationally, that talking about this caused him pain. 

‘No, actually he doesn’t rent them out for movie night’ she said trying to keep her voice even. If they ended up with wands drawn again she didn’t see it ending well. ‘Harry never showed those memories to anyone. Not me or Ron. No one. She paused ‘Well Kingsley but he just showed him the’ she faltered ‘ the memories concerning Dumbledore’ He told me a couple of things though.’

‘I see.’ he said. He looked reasonably calm again but Hermione noticed that he was avoiding her eyes and his left hand was balled into a fist. 

‘Do you?’ she asked feeling anger rise up in her again, familiar like a blanket. Let it cover me, she prayed. It was easier than thinking. ‘You see? You see what exactly? How you broke him? Sent him to his death? Is that what you see? You see how you left him guilt ridden, feeling like your supposed death was his fault? Feeling like he didn’t know his parents at all?’ She was shouting and God it felt good.

‘Albus left me a task’ Snape said slowly when she stopped to catch her breath ‘I saw no other way of completing that task. Had I left him fewer memories he might not have believed me, he might have refused to go to his death. He might have ruined everything.’ 

‘A seventeen year old boy refusing to die. How odd’ Hermione sneered.

‘And I wanted him to see’ Snape continued ignoring her ‘What she was like’ he swallowed ‘How did he do it? How did he kill him?’ The question seemed to have escaped him unwillingly and when Hermione looked up she saw the almost hungry look on his face. It was more than a need to know, it was craving she was looking at.

The barge passed and the bridge closed and they walked on. It was getting cold and Hermione pulled her jacket tighter around her. Snape still walked a couple of paces behind her, she heard him coughing a couple of times.

‘Expelliarmus’ she said finally choosing her words with care ‘It rebounded, I don’t know. He died, that’s all I know.’

He looked thoughtful, the hungry look fading a bit. She saw him curl his left hand into a fist again “Yes signature spells have power. Or so some believe. I truly thought I had sent Potter to his death.’

‘You did.’ Hermione said.

‘And yet’ Snape replied.

‘And yet’ Hermione echoed. She had absolutely no intention of telling Snape anything of what Harry had told her of the forest and dying and seeing Dumbledore or any of it. She bit her lip and held her tongue until Snape sighed.

‘All right, so home sweet home? I’ll walk you, make sure you don’t do anything.’

‘Like jump off this bridge? I am not inclined to do so.’

‘Glad to hear it’ he said. He moved as if wanting to offer her an arm then clearly thought better of it.

‘And yet, you insist’ Hermione said ignoring the odd gesture.

‘I told you, I owe you.’

‘And I am supposed to do what now? Milk this owing me thing for everything it’s wo-’ she stopped talking and looked at him feeling slightly guilty. He raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face.

‘Whatever would have given you that idea?’ he said nastily looking, finally, like her old potions professor again. Hermione glared at him. She didn’t know what she wanted but she did know she didn’t want this.

‘Severus.’

‘Hmh?’

‘Let’s get one thing clear. I did what I did for Harry.’

‘I kn-’

She held up her hand ‘No. I...I release you from whatever debt you think you owe me. Level playing field all right? I am not your student, I am not a child, I am not some damsel you didn’t save. If you don’t want to be here, leave. I won’t tell Harry or anyone else you’re still alive. I haven’t told anyone about my suspicions regarding you for the past three years. But if you are staying, then it’s your choice.’

His face remained motionless but Hermione saw first surprise, then gratitude then a profound sadness in his eyes.

‘I never pictured you much as a damsel, Granger’ he said with an attempt at sarcasm that fell flat. ‘Thank you.’ The words were quiet and Hermione felt some of the anger inside her lift to be replaced by the same sadness she saw in his eyes. She hated him a little more for that.

‘Hermione’ she said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Thank you, Hermione.’

He blinked ‘As you wish.’

She almost smiled ‘You know I don’t live alone and it’s quite a walk from here.’

‘I don’t mind a walk, unless you wish to get rid of me?’

‘No’ she said because it was true. Whatever else he was, he was someone she knew in this city that still felt strange to her with it’s endless canals and strange language. He was also someone to blame, someone to get her mind off of all the things she didn’t want to think about. She turned left looking around and was glad when she realized she knew the way home. He followed without a word, still a couple of steps behind her. Like a dog on a short leash.

‘You live with this Gabrielle? Is she aware you’re a witch?’

Now Hermione did smile ‘Yes Gabrielle Delacour is pretty much aware that I am witch.’

His eyes narrowed ‘Is this supposed to be a joke I am not in on? Making fun of me Granger?’

‘I told you to call me Hermione and no not making fun, you don’t remember Gabrielle? Fleur Delacour’s little sister? Surely you remember Fleur seeing as how you’re well... male.’

She could see that he was utterly confused by this statement, then comprehension dawned and he pushed his hair back from his face ‘The veela’ he said. ‘Why would you assume I remember her? I don’t recall her performance in the Tournament to be noteworthy. She has a sister?’ He frowned ‘You mean the girl she failed to save? You’re living with her?’

‘And her girlfriend Tiffany. I’ll be sure to pass your compliments to Fleur when she comes over for Christmas.’

‘You’ll still be here at- wait what day is it?’

‘It’s August 25th and yes I’ll be here come Christmas I hope.’

‘Great’ he muttered, more to himself than to her ‘I lost a week almost. And probably my job. That’s just fantastic.’

‘You had a job? Hermione asked, interested ‘What kind?’

‘ Yes, food costs money, money is gained through labor, so yes I had a job and now I’ll need a new one.’ He grimaced ‘I fixed bikes. Where the hell are we?’ he looked around for a bit orienting himself ‘You live near Museumplein?’’

Hermione followed his gaze across the busy square filled with museums and cafes and stores. Even the air smelled of haste here.

‘We rent, the three of us. There is some student housing for those who attend the Academy. I’ll start studying for my N.E.W.T.S. in five days. Gabrielle and Tiffany are going as well. Did you just say you fixed bikes? You?’

She felt a flutter of excitement even talking about the school. The Dutch Academy of Magic more popularly known as the Dome was a minor school compared to the likes of Hogwarts but to her it felt like a life saver. She would go there and learn, like she knew how to do, and get her N.E.W.T.S and complete at least one item on the list of things to do before growing into a proper adult. Like she’d dreamed about before everything.

‘You forget I’m a half-blood’ Snape said ‘I kept up a bit, with muggle technology I mean. Computers are still baffling thought I think I might be getting the hang of those. But fixing bikes, cars... I can still do that.’ He was frowning again. ‘The Dome you said? Minerva set you up?’

‘She’s friends with the Headmistress’ Hermione said.

‘I know.’

She faltered looking at her hands, twisting her finger ‘I tried Hogwarts’ she admitted fighting the urge to feel ashamed at admitting failure to this man. ‘It didn’t work out.’ she added her voice carefully even.

‘Of course it didn’t.’ he said immediately.

‘Thanks for that.’ Hermione muttered.

He gave her a level stare ‘You suffered trauma at that place, why would you willingly return? Or is it because that’s what you were supposed to be doing?’

‘Are you waiting for me to hex you?’ Hermione said, exasperated.

He shrugged ‘I spent six years trying to get it in your head that textbooks hardly ever work in practice. I’m saying the same thing to you now. You are, granted, in a position to hex me so if that will help you go right ahead. Doesn’t make what I say not true.’

‘Life is hard?’ Hermione asked. ‘That’s the grand message?’

‘Life is unfair and there is no message.’

She sighed ‘You’re impossible. This is me by the way, us.’

He looked up at the old looking building, his face a blank mask again.

‘Severus?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’d like to be able to reach you, if you don’t mind. Before I leave for school.’

‘Are you going to live on campus?’ he asked pulling a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket ‘Phone number’ he said giving it to her ‘You shouldn't go.’

Hermione took the paper from his hand ‘Thank you, for that. I could have done without the unwanted advice though.’

He smiled. ‘Old teaching habit. Guess it dies hard, just like the rest.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal gratitude to Colubrina who is generously beta-reading this thing for me. Special thanks also, to my writing group who helped shape the first half of this chapter.

Chapter 4

It took a short amount of time to find another job. Severus Snape might possess zero people skills, but Brian Bishop could fake them well enough to get an old colleague to recommend him for something suitable. People who couldn’t do much in way of work tended to look out for each other. This job re-quired him to walk around in a museum scaring people away from touching the displayed objects. It didn’t take his new boss long to discover he was a natural. 

Severus sighed as he walked from one room to another. The museum hardly deserved the name. It was small, located in one of the age-old houses that graced Amsterdam’s canals. He stood in the badly lit hallway and checked his phone for the second time that morning. The display was empty. He set his jaw, putting the phone in the back pocket of his jeans, determined not to look at it for the rest of the day. She would have started school by now. She would have enough on her mind. She was all right. She would call if she wasn’t.

‘Leach on to her right from the start why don’t you?’ he muttered to himself, pulling his hair out of his eyes. He passed into another room that displayed old Bibles and made his rounds, careful of the camer-as around the place. The museum was all but empty. Only two lost tourists with backpacks walked around, talking quietly to each other. He sat in the corner watching them, wondering how in the hell he had managed to make Hermione Granger become his problem. The girl was angry and rightfully so, but she could go on being angry without him. When his phone did finally buzz, he almost jumped.

Severus

He sighed.

You do realize that sending a text message consisting only of my name defeats the purpose of this me-dium?

Good to know you can text

I am a wizard, not stupid.

He watched the display until it turned black and then spent the rest of his working day not touching his phone. When he got home, his shoulder had started hurting. It had hurt on and off for years, he had a bad fall in his childhood, but after the Schack his shoulder would hurt almost all the time. He hated it.

He marked the day on his new calendar, he had started marking the days in which he could remember what he was doing and where he was, and looked at the six marks in a row with satisfaction. He could just ignore her. His life was back on track; the sinking feeling that had come with seeing her had disap-peared enough to the background for him to function again. He could just, get a new phone. The one he was currently holding felt heavy in his hand.

‘Ah, fuck it.’

He walked over to the window and sat on the sill, his back against cold stone. The air outside smelled of rain. He picked up the small mobile.

What do you want, Granger?

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

Did you know this school actually makes it possible to use muggle things like this phone?

Yes I do know that

He smiled when the display flared up indicating a call.

‘What? You read The Dome: A History?’

‘Funny.’ She sounded more like herself, excited and bossy. He suddenly saw her like she had been, be-hind her desk in class, one big bushy head and a hand in the air as high as she could reach whenever he would ask a question. It was strange trying to connect that girl to the woman he had recently spoken to in front of that broken mirror.

‘I just didn’t expect-’ she started. ‘This school is very muggle friendly.’

‘That’s because Durmstrang and Beauxbatons used to dump their muggleborn students there,’ he said.

‘You are kidding me.’ The indignation in her voice was almost comical.

‘I’m not,’ he said. He hoped to goad her further, give her a cause to fight for. It would be good to direct this new energy he heard in her voice towards something that would keep her occupied. Occupied and perhaps away from him. He was still unsure why he allowed her to call, allowed her into his life. He just knew that the thought of walking away from her hurt. The way hearing about the Weasley boy’s ear had hurt. He didn’t want to feel hurt anymore. ‘Those schools used to have a muggleborn student max-imum. Makes Hogwarts sound like paradise in comparison, doesn’t it?’

She sighed. ‘And here I thought the Dome was so progressive.’

‘They are progressive. Out of necessity.’

‘You are ruining my school experience,’ she said. ‘Again.’

He sighed. ‘Life is unfair Granger, you should learn to deal with that. There a particular reason you called?’

There was silence on the other end of the line. He could hear her breathing. He tried to imagine her face, scrunched up in concentration as she thought of an answer but found he couldn’t. e had no men-tal reference for this Hermione Granger yet.

‘I wanted to check up on you, see how you were,’ she said finally. She sounded surprised at herself. ‘Last time you had a headache.’

‘I’m starting to get one now,’ he said, smiling. ‘Don’t you have other people to annoy?’

‘Just you and Harry,’ she said. ‘You two are the only people I know who use mobile phones.’

He frowned at that. ‘What about your parents?’

There was silence on the other end for such a long time he began to think the connection broke.

‘Granger?’

‘You do not get to speak of my parents.’ The cold was back in her voice full force. She sounded de-tached and he felt the distance between them acutely; felt the strangeness of using a muggle device to speak to her.

‘Granger?’

She hung up.

Severus blinked at the disconnect tone, then stood,put the phone on its usual shelf in his bedroom, and sat on the bed. Strange that she would react that way.

He could not recall what happened to the Grangers now that he thought about it. Neither the Dark Lord nor the Order had seemed particularly interested in them. He remembered a single instance in which Minerva mentioned her parents, right after Granger succeeded in turning herself into a cat. While he had laughed himself to tears, Minerva had yelled at Albus for not wanting to inform the Grangers about the incident. He flexed his shoulders, trying to get some movement in them, and frowned. Could it be that her parents had not survived the war? But he was certain he would have heard about that, or read about it in the paper, at least.

No, whatever happened, Granger had managed to keep it hidden from the press. Judging from her re-action, whatever had happened was bad. If these were another two names he could add to the list of the dead because he stood by and did nothing to save them, that would be bad, too.

When his phone buzzed a week later, he wasn’t going to pick up. Her anger management issues were not his problem. Plus, his head hurt. His hand hovered over the mobile, the display flashing its warning, someone needs you, you are missing out. He picked up the phone, resigning himself to his new fate. He would...help her, for lack of a better word. If help was what she needed. If she was to be the end of him, he could accept that too. What he couldn’t do was let the phone ring on knowing that she might be in need, knowing that she knew he was still breathing. It was dependency, he recognised it as such, but he decided not to care. 

‘What?’  
‘Hi, sorry to bother you. My name is Gabrielle. I am a friend of Hermione’s.’ It took him a moment of blind panic to remember that Granger had mentioned a Gabrielle, the veela, or sister of the veela. He hadn’t been paying attention that closely. This could be her, the girl’s voice even sounded pretty. He swallowed back the ‘wrong number’- sentence and decided to hear her out. ‘She told me not to call Harry and I well…I didn’t know who else to call.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Severus asked, infinitely glad the snake bite altered the way his voice sounded.

‘She isn’t doing very well. I thought, I mean, I know you two are friends, and I thought…. if you can come pick her up, I think that would be a good idea,’ Gabrielle said. He could hear Hermione in the background now, screaming something about minding her own business. What gave the ridiculous girl the idea he and Granger were friends? He sat on the window sill, phone in his hand; ignoring the part of him that wanted to run, straight away to wherever Granger was to help, to fulfill his assignment, to get praise…He’d never learn.

‘Tell her I’ll meet her at the gate in about fifteen minutes,’ he said calmly, Occlumency was such a gift, when it worked he could sound calm even under torture, and hung up the phone before the girl could start asking questions. Before he could start thinking about what it was he was doing.

Apparating brought on a coughing fit and he had to wait for it to subside before he could walk up the lane towards the school. It was no Hogwarts. The Dome was rather small, red bricked and practical looking. The building was completely round, surrounded by a number of alleyways with benches sprinkled here and there. Granger was already waiting, sitting on one of the benches with her back to him. She didn’t look up as he sat next to her. Her eyes were dull and the look on her face was close to the one she had worn in the park when she had accused him of stealing her childhood. 

‘Your friend called,’ he said because he had no idea what to say. 

‘Are you utterly insane?’ she muttered turning to him. ‘What if someone recognises you?’ Her eyes were burning. With a start he realized that he couldn’t tell whether the hate he saw in them was directed at him or not. He couldn’t read her, not completely. He gripped the sides of the bench until his fingers hurt. 

‘Calculated risk,’ he said; at least his voice still sounded controlled. ‘As long as you are here and we keep meeting, I keep running the risk of someone recognising me, or you blabbing. But I think the risk of exposure here is minimal. Only Sabrina would know me on sight.’

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as curiosity took the place of anger on her face. ‘Who?’

‘Professor Zuid to you, I suppose,’ he said. It was nice to know that he could still manipulate, even if he was doing it now to keep her talking. 

‘You know the potions mistress here?’ she asked.

‘Yes ma‘am, it’s a small community, potions. Where’s your friend?’

Hermione frowned. ‘My friend should mind her own business. I didn’t ask her to call you. She just grabbed my phone, saw a new number in there.’

‘ And assumed you and I are friends,‘ he said drily. 

Granger rolled her eyes at him. ‘Gaby likes to look at the world through big pink sunglasses, we all have our ways of coping I guess. You didn’t have to come.’

‘Tough luck,’ he said. ‘I’m here.’ He glanced at her. She had a calculating look on her face that he didn’t like. 

‘Can you get me out of here?’ she asked.

‘Away from the school you mean? Yes. Though, you’ll need to alert someone if you leave, I suppose.’

‘Who cares?’ she bit out, her hands gripping the side of the bench as well now. ‘It’s a magic school, and I can’t seem to be able to do any magic.’ She spoke calmly but her face had gone grey; worry and discuss alternating themselves in her features. Now he was almost sure the hate he saw earlier was directed at herself rather than him. That hurt, but he had no intention of examining that.

‘You’re blocked?’ he asked instead. 

‘If you want to call it that,’ she shrugged. The stiffness returned to her posture. 

‘Since when?’ he asked.

‘Past two weeks,’ she said with indifference that was so fake a first-year could have seen through it. ‘I missed two weeks of classes.’

‘You’ll catch up. I am pretty sure they aren’t teaching you anything new.’

‘Actually, Arithmancy is quite hard, Potions as well, Ancient Ruins…’

‘How many subjects are you taking?’ he asked, exasperated. She was impossible. 

‘None, if I can’t study magic.’

He grimaced. ‘Don’t be dramatic, you are blocked. You’re still a witch.’ The words came out harsher than he meant. His mother used to have episodes in which her magic would leave her, long painful weeks in which she would sit in front of a window and smoke one cigarette after the other and glance at him with resentment in her eyes, as if his magic were at fault for her losing hers. He used to feel especially inadequate during those times and he felt the same inadequacy creep in on him now. 

‘Sure you want to get out of here?’ he asked. 

‘Yes.’'

He offered her his arm. ‘You can side along.’ She took his arm with some hesitation, and he wondered if that was because he had offered his left arm. The knowledge that the dark mark lay almost beneath her fingers must bother her, he thought, and switched arms. Hermione looked a bit surprised but didn’t say anything. He stepped out of the clean lanes of the Dome and into the less clean lanes of Amsterdam’s Central Station with her on his arm. The quiet replaced itself with the bustling noise of people moving, talking. He spotted a woman shouting about the coming of Christ and felt a weight fall away from him. In this crowd, he was again invisible. 

‘That’s no way to apparate,’ Granger commented. Her arm was still on his. ‘You’re doing it wrong.’

‘Thank you for the assessment,‘ he said shaking her off. ‘I can fly, it changed some aspects of my magic. Have you eaten today?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember if I have.’

‘Then let’s feed you first,’ he said already making his way through the crowd. ‘On second thought, hold on, let’s walk for a bit.’

She blinked then started following him, making her way through the crowd with awkward steps. He watched her stumble for a while then offered his arm again. 

‘You need to learn to navigate crowds, Granger.’

‘I thought I told you to call me Hermione,’ she said. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To greet death,’ he smirked, her expression told him he would probably get to watch her navigate large crowds in London, expertly some day. ‘Then we’ll get food.’

She only shrugged. 

They walked out of the Central Station and he turned towards Spui, the shops and Dam square. It had been a while since he had been in what some people considered to be the heart of the city and he felt a smile he could barely contain fly to his lips. The air was different here. Hermione watched her feet, then watched the people and then, pushing her hair back out of her face, watched the city. Her hand on his arm relaxed. By the time they reached the two circles that formed Dam square she was biting back a smile. He walked over to the main ring containing the church and the King’s Palace, feeling her eyes on him. There were about five street performers on the Dam today. He saw a crudely made Darth Father, the Mask, a squat, round bellied man was blowing bubbles from a wand big enough to use as a walking sitck. Death stood, as always, at the back of the square near the horse and carriage rides, He walked over and placed a ten euro bill In death’s hands. The figure nodded and spread their grim reaper arms in what he supposed was gratitude. Snape turned around, losing sight of Granger for a moment, but then he saw her sitting on one of the stone benches that were set up in a semi-circle around the square. Their eyes met and she held his for a moment before closing hers and leaning back on the bench. The wind had made a mess of her hair. He walked over to her. 

‘We can do food now.’

She shook her head without opening her eyes. ‘Do you do that often? Give money to the grim reaper?’

He shrugged ‘Call it superstition. You need to eat.’

‘Later,’ she said. He sighed and sat next to her. The bubble blower was attracting a crowd now. 

‘It’s like being a ghost,’ she said after a while.

‘What is?’

‘This here. I thought at first it was like being invisible. But it’s like being a ghost. They know I’m here, all these people, they just don’t care. So in turn, I am also allowed not to care.’

‘You need permission not to care?’ he asked. He didn’t like how much what she had said made sense to him. He liked this square exactly because here he could be invisible. Or a ghost he supposed. There was little difference. 

Hermione ignored the question. They sat in silence for a some time. He didn’t know how long. He watched his hands, unsure what to do with her. He was no saviour, nor a hero and it was far too late to pretend to be one. 

‘Aren’t you going to force me to talk about my feelings now? Try to figure out what is blocking me?’

‘I’m not into forcing. Done enough of that,’ he said. 

She shrugged ‘I tried to blame you, you know. For not being able to levitate as much as a feather I mean, ‘she said.   
‘Who’s stopping you?’

She opened her eyes, they were shining with tears. ‘That’s too easy,’ she said. ‘Besides, I think you might be carrying enough blame as is.’

He swallowed back a reply that would have made her run, or possibly a thank you. ‘What happened to your parents, Hermione?’

She was silent, watching the crowds. A bubble as big as a large balloon floated up to her and burst. ‘What happened to my parents?’ she asked eyes on the place where the bubble balloon had been just a minute ago. ‘A tragedy. They gave birth to a witch.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, here we go, one major plot point and some more talking. I am frankly terrified to post this chapter but my beta liked it and I know what the next chapter will be so here you go. Hope you like where we are headed. 
> 
> Infinite thanks to Colubrina for her beta reading, her support and her willingness to stick with me and my writing work.

Hermione’s feet hurt but she persevered, walking next to Severus who seemed tireless. He had forced her to choose food and they had ended up with some greasy, Indonesian thing that she liked so much she had eaten half of his portion as well. And then they had walked around the city as she told him how she stripped her parents of their lives, their home, their memories. How she had destroyed them, killed them in all but body and then lived on. It wasn’t the first time she had talked about it. It was, however, the first time she had talked for so long without being interrupted. She didn’t want to tell him these things, but her magic was gone. She could feel it’s absence, the block as Snape had called it, sitting square in her gut, whispering about failure. She didn’t think she could handle another failure, so she talked, forcing the words out one by one as they crossed one canal after the other, the streets becoming increasingly unfamiliar. 

He was still silent as they crossed another bridge and ended up at a small park. Two benches stood in a corner, the gazebo above them bearing only wilted roses. Before Hermione was a climbing frame and a couple of swings. The place seemed deserted. The silence was overwhelming after the bustling city centre. She felt like she had walked into a garden built just for her. Like the city was reacting to her story, even if the man beside her did not seem to want to. She breathed in the salty, canal air and sat on one of the swings.

‘Severus? You, all right?’

He’d stopped at the gate leading into the park, watching her with an expression that looked like terror, or maybe it was just anger and she was imagining things. The fingers of his left hand formed a fist, then relaxed again. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

‘Severus?’

He blinked, seeming to shake off whatever it was that had bothered him, and opened the small gate.

‘So, you took their memories,’ he said sitting next to her on the other swing. ‘When was this?’

‘Right after you…right after the end of our sixth year,’ she said. 

‘Right after I killed Albus. That’s not why you did it? Is it?’ His voice sounded sharp, reproachful. 

Hermione shook her head and moved her foot so that the swing started going. He could be reproachful, for now. She’d let it happen. The pain that was always tearing at her had become sound, had become an ugly thing. As she gave it a voice, she made it real. She knew that would happen. She had learned a long time ago that fear and failure were living things, manifesting themselves into her world. She felt if she closed her eyes she would see the monster she had created. It would be something other than a boggart this time. Laughter wouldn’t work against it. 

‘I started developing plans to keep them away from the war after the Triwizard Tournament,’ she said when she could see he was about to get really angry. ‘It just took a long time to learn the proper spells. It had nothing to do with you, just the war.’ Her hands gripped the cold swing bar. ‘This is where you tell me that I’m a monster. That what I did was terrible.’

 

‘Why should I?’ he asked, his voice had gone back to the indifferent tones that told her she was safe from an outburst. ‘You seem to already know that what you did was terrible. How does me pointing that out help anyone in any way?’ Hermione turned on the swing and looked at him. 

‘After the war, I tried to reverse it,’ she said. She could feel bile rise in her throat. The heavy pressure on her chest made it almost impossible to speak. But she felt like she needed to, not to get her magic back, she couldn’t find it in her to care about her magic at this moment, but maybe because holding it in felt too much like dishonouring them. And Snape was at least willing to listen to her. The fact that he was still sitting here, silently, or almost silently, meant to her that she could talk. That she could say what needed to be said and release it, make the finality of her failure real. He sat watching his hands, the swing perfectly still beneath him. 

‘I figured you might have tried that,’ he said. ‘So what went wrong? Or did you manage it?’

She smiled slightly. ‘I managed half of it.’

‘What do you mean half? How can you manage half?’

‘Can you not sound like I botched up a potions assignment? I managed to return memories to my mum but not my dad. I couldn’t…it didn’t work on him.’ There. She had said it, out loud and to another human being. And what she feared turned out to be true, saying it out loud did make what happened feel more real like she had brought that final non-working spell to completion and her father was lost to her, fully now. The hurt was so clean she imagined she could see it, a clear icicle, sharp and beautiful, piercing through her. Snape looked at her and she braced herself for the disapproval that would come. But his eyes were clear and the look on his face was…interested. 

‘You managed all right with your mother?’ 

‘That’s your reaction?’ she asked. She grabbed at her anger first, it was readily available and justified, in this moment. How could he treat her life, her parent’s lives like some sort of scientific experiment. Her hand reached for her wand and she grabbed it, the familiar feel of the wood in her hand edging her on. Snape merely looked at her, the corner of his mouth curled up. She held her wand in her hand and sighed. It wasn’t just anger inside her, as much as she hated to admit it there was understanding too. She could see how the situation was interesting from an academic point of view. She hated herself for it, but she could follow the logic of his thoughts, his interest. And with that understanding came the tiniest bit of relief which she grabbed as the life line that it was.

‘So, my parents are nothing more than an interesting thought experiment is that it?’

He shrugged. ‘Using memory charms on any human being is complicated. Using it on muggles, or anyone who has had no regular contact with magic really, is even more complex. So, being able to return memories to your mother is quite the achievement.’

To her horror, she felt pride rise up in her and she had to grit her teeth to not let herself feel it. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever paid me a compliment before.’

‘I was stating a fact. And you never deserved compliments.’

‘No, I guess you’re right,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘Brightest witch of her age and I can’t even undo what I did to my father.’

‘I told you,’ he said ‘memory charms like that are complex.’ He sighed. ‘We do not get to undo our mistakes, Hermione. No matter how hard we try or how much we think we deserve to. In the end, we simply find ourselves part of someone else’s plans and the dead stay dead.’

‘My parents aren’t dead.’

‘No, they are not,’ he said. He stood and picked the empty food containers from her hand, hovering above her. The sight was both familiar and strange. Familiar, because part of her could feel the wand in her hand, and imagine the cauldron between them. Strange, because she couldn’t imagine ever having found his hovering intimidating, let alone frightening. There was grey hair at his temples, she hadn’t noticed earlier. 

‘I don’t feel different,’ she said and pulled her wand from her pocket to see if that would do the trick. He looked from her to her wand and smiled one of those nasty smiles she remembered. The food containers sailed to the trash bin on their own. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. 

‘You expected that talking about your delicate feelings would somehow magically restore your abilities?’ Snape asked. 

She wanted to lash out at him, wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. Instead she found herself sagging against the swing, tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to quit this school.’ 

He blinked as if startled. The smile disappeared from his lips and her, wide eyed, as if the thought of her leaving the Dome had not occurred to him. ‘No one is saying you have to do that. You’re still a witch.’

‘A witch who can’t do magic.’

‘Temporarily,’ he said. ‘There is nothing wrong with you. You’re…taking a break. No need for this school to not cooperate with that. It happens. Lots of reasons. Dragon pox cause these kinds of things too sometimes.’ 

Despite the turmoil in feelings, she almost had the urge to smile. She had never heard such an awkward attempt at consolidation and yet there was a slight colour to his cheeks that he tried to hide by scowling at the climbing frame. She stood from the swing as well. 

‘Just don’t tell me that I have to forgive myself. My therapist tried that, it wasn’t successful.’

The smirk flew back to his face. ‘I didn’t know the wizarding world evolved far enough to offer such things as therapists.’ He walked over the centre of the small park and stood, looking around. To Hermione, he looked lost. His hands trembled, she raised an eyebrow but before she could ask what was the matter the moment passed. 

She gave him an exasperated look and went to his side, hands crossed before her chest. ‘I went to a muggle one. Thought it might help, ‘ she said. 

‘I do feel sorry for whichever poor schmuck got to deal with you, ‘ he drawled. ‘What kind of story did you tell?’

‘Early onset of Alzheimer’s disease,’ Hermione said. She placed her wand back into a pocket. She didn’t trust herself with it just now. ‘It was an easy lie.’

‘That excuses you from any responsibility for what happened. Yes, I see how that might be tempting,’ he grumbled. 

‘You can stop anytime,’ Hermione said. ‘I know I’m responsible I’m not running from it.’

‘Then what are you doing here?’ he asked sharply. ‘Taking a vacation from your husband?’ The tremor was back to his hands. He looked paler than usual and seemed to have trouble catching a breath. She frowned and bit her lip.

‘It’s like you want me to get mad at you.’

‘Well, you already tried attacking me with magic.’ his voice was rising steadily. Hermione had the urge to step back but she decided against it. She knew she wasn’t afraid, knew she could defend herself if necessary, plus, there was the sense of duty or maybe it was humanity, she had a hard time telling the difference these days. All she knew was what she could see, something was wrong with him and who was she not to help? 

‘Now what?’ he shouted. ‘You plan on slapping me like you once did with Draco Mal-‘ He broke off, staring at her with horror. The last bit of colour drained from his face and he shook his hand at her as if trying to get rid of her like he would a mirage. Hermione stepped closer.

‘Severus? Just keep breathing.’

‘You need to stay away from me.’ The words were no more than a whisper. He gulped for air his hands grabbing for something to hold onto, but there was nothing in reach and he made a failing awkward gesture that made him look bird-like. Overgrown bat, she thought, pitiless. It was still an apt moniker. 

‘Severus, you want to sit down?’ her voice was calm, she felt calm. She felt grateful, his panic was a distraction from her pain. She didn’t care to spare a thought as to what that made her. ‘Severus?’

He looked back at the swings with an expression of pure loathing his hand clawing at his neck and now Hermione did feel a jolt of fear. She had no idea how well his scars healed if he truly hurt himself she would doubted she would be able to help him.’ 

‘I could hurt you,’ he said between gasping breaths. ‘I didn’t realize…I’m stronger than you.’

‘Well that remains to be seen’ Hermione said lightly. ‘I bet I could take you, if the fight was fair.’ She hoped that the babbling would get him out of the panic attack. Perhaps if she sounded stupid he would snipe at that and not stand here white and shaking and making her heart break a little. 

‘You need to leave.’

‘I’m not leaving you like this,’ she said. She reached out for him but then thought better of it and crossed her arms in front of her chest again. ‘Will it help if you sit? Just keep breathing it will pass.’

‘You had to bring me to this place? This fucking place…’

She frowned. ‘What’s wrong with this place?’

‘You had to drag me to this place!’ he shouted the tremors getting worse now. He looked back at the swings again, a gust of wind had set them in motion and she could hear the rusty metal. 

‘Then let’s leave.’ Hermione said and placed a hand on his arm. She felt it when she touched him, a tiny spark and then right on the heels of that the certainty that she could apparate. That apparating was in fact as easy as taking a breath. That she was a witch after all. Snape tried to pull his arm away but she held on and stepped into the nothingness of apparition thinking only of home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal gratitude to Colubrina for beta reading this story and putting up with me. Love you

Snape couldn’t remember the last time he had side-alonged with anyone. The sensation was un-settling and made him feel helpless. He hated feeling helpless, didn’t know how to properly feel that way anymore. There was no air left in his lungs, he blamed her apparating skills. He wanted to yell at her but the lack of oxygen closed his throat. Hermione let go of his arm and he jerked away from her so violently he almost fell. She gave him a long look in which he couldn’t find pity, and started looking through her bag.

‘Where are we?’ he asked when he felt certain his voice wouldn’t hitch on the words. She was tak-ing a damn long time with that bag of hers.

‘My place,’ she said, looking up at him, keys in hand.

‘You apparated.’

Hermione opened the door. ‘Well, you looked in need of assistance, I guess that did the trick.’ 

‘Gryffindor,’ he muttered.

‘Insulting me will get you nowhere. Come in.’

He hesitated in the doorway. Shame curled around him like a snake, choking him before it bit. He hated her for what she had seen but, at the same time, his head was spinning and he knew he was on the brink of falling into an abyss he knew no way out of. 

He should have never had allowed her to take them to that damn playground. He should have watched where they were going, he should have never stayed long enough to sit on that swing. He should have yelled at her, apparated away. He could hear Lily’s laughter in his head, see her floating in the air as she jumped off of a different swing a lifetime ago. The image, the sound of her laughter, the memory of his own inadequacy, was mixed with his father’s shouting and the sound of breaking bottles. He forced his eyes open. If he closed them he was lost.

Her house smelled faintly of cat and books and vinegar. Her orders were so easy to follow: ‘Come in,’ ‘Sit down.’ Those things he could do. Those things were not: ‘Go back to the Dark Lord, if you are willing, if you are able. I am giving you a choice that is not a choice and we both know it but let’s pretend you have options.’ He rubbed his face trying to focus on Hermione’s movements. His memories were becoming a blur in which only Albus remained clear. At least that much was famil-iar. Whenever this happened to him, whatever would trigger it, whichever voice from the past he would hear, Albus’ voice, Albus’ face always won in the end. Hermione was opening cupboards, setting the kettle, placing a mug in front of him.

‘Here, drink this. You’re welcome to stay, there’s a couch.’ Her babbling broke through Albus’ mon-ologue a little, enough to jolt him to the present.

He shook his head. ‘No need to take it that far.’

She started pouring her own tea. He sat at the kitchen table and counted the tiles on the wall. There was a blue pattern of lily’s on them. Of course. He forced himself to breathe in and out,, in rhythm with his counting. Hermione watched him with a concerned air but he could see the curiosi-ty burning beneath that wholesome frame. 

‘What happened exactly?’ she asked. ‘Did I do something?’ He detected worry in her voice. Was she afraid of him? She must be after what she had seen. Did he want her to be afraid? When she came closer, placing her mug with tea next to his, he saw that she was not afraid of him. She was afraid she’d done something wrong and it was hurting her.

He shook his head. ‘Not you,’ he said quickly, he wanted that look off her face. ‘The idea of hurting you-‘ he swallowed and managed a look at her. ‘I don’t usually keep people in my life for this long.’

‘I’m not following,’ she said and took a seat next to him.

He shrugged. ‘There is nothing to follow, people don’t stay in my life for as long as you have. I got…used to you. I forgot what I am capable of, what I am.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you are, Severus.’

He huffed.

Hermione sipped her tea cradling the mug between her hands. ‘You are a friend,’ she said thought-fully.

‘Excuse me?’ He must have misheard her. Either that or the ridiculous woman was going insane.

‘You don’t have to look so shocked,’ she said, her voice maddeningly calm as if she truly believed the idiocy she was sprouting. ‘I thought about it. You are a person I am willing to spend time with. That makes you a friend as far as I am concerned.’

He knew the expression on his face must be foolish so he bowed to the mug of tea allowing his hair to fall in front of his face.

‘Does that mean you intend to stay? Intend to bother me some more?’ He took a sip of his tea and grimaced. ‘This is sugar water.’

Hermione bit her lip and turned from him, standing she picked up a can of cat food from a nearby shelf.

‘I have no intention of disappearing from your life, unless… unless what just happened is my fault.’

‘I told you it isn’t,’ he said looking around the kitchen. He had expected her to run, or laugh at him then run, but her posture didn’t betray a lie to him. He wished he could see her face. The idea of her staying was making his breathing ease. It was also making his gut tighten. If she was going to stay she would find out everything. He had to prevent that somehow.

The kitchen was rather small, dominated by the table he was sitting at. Shelves and cupboards lined every available surface. He swallowed and started searching for the right words. He needed to control this thing before it slipped away from him. That meant talking, which wasn’t his strong suit. A black tomcat stuck its head around the corner of the door, saw the two of them, snorted and disappeared again.

‘I thought you had a ginger kneazle,’ Snape said.

‘Crookshanks is with Harry,’ Hermione answered. ‘I think it’s Harry’s way of making sure I’ll return to Britain at some point. He wasn’t exactly happy with this study abroad idea.’

Snape stared at her. She turned away, placed the cat food on the floor with a hopeful look, but the cat didn’t reappear. She turned back to him and leaned on one of the chairs, rocking it. Potter would take her from him then, no matter what she said. That was to be expected, of course, and yet his chest compressed painfully. He didn’t want her in the first place, but Potter would take her and that hurt.

‘I see no reason for you to physically hurt me, Severus,’ she said and her eyes were steady on his. ’I don’t understand why you would think that. You had plenty of opportunities already and you didn’t take them. I mean, hurting my feelings, yes, of course you’d do that. I am after all, talking to the man who once told me he sees no difference while my teeth grew into the floor.’ She smiled softly. He recognised the outstretched hand her babbling offered and frowned.

‘What are you talking about?’

Hermione gave him a look that said he screwed up already. ‘Drink your sugar water.’ She took a sip of her tea and sat across from him again. ‘Why would you worry about hurting me?’

‘We were discussing your parents,’ he said.

She put up a hand, silencing him. ‘I can’t. All talked out on that subject for today. Answer the question, please.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m stronger than you, physically, magically.’

She let out a loud huff.

‘I am, Hermione. It’s not a competition, it’s a warning.’

‘Fine, You’re stronger, if you say so, so what? I’m the one who attacked you, set you on fire, and threw you across a room that one time.’ She smiled.

‘You’re making a joke out of it,’ he said. He cleared his throat. ‘I am done hurting people. You’ve seen for yourself how I can get you want to risk being at the other end of my wand next time I forget where I am or who you are?’

Her face softened. ‘I am not going anywhere, Severus. We all got a whiplash from that war. Me, Harry, Ron. I’m not expecting you to be the picture of mental health either.’

There was no malice in her voice and her face looked soft, almost sad, more approachable, mature. Pain made you that way, he knew. If only he could be sure, know for sure that she wasn’t lying or playing him, waiting for him to humiliate himself further so she could laugh louder. If he could only see, just for a minute.

‘I wouldn’t,’ she said sharply. ‘My mind is not a fun place to be right now.’

He looked at his own hands. ‘Can’t help it sometimes, ‘ he murmured. There, she needed to know at least that much. He doubted he could live with himself if he invaded her mind because he couldn’t control his magic. She needed to be warned.

‘Can’t help what? Being curious?’ she asked. ‘Or is it not curiosity?’

He looked up at her. ‘No. There are things… I…can’t control it, sometimes,’ he said, feeling his gut tighten. He was a failure on all accounts. Why was that so hard to admit? ‘The Legilimency some-times it won’t work, like now, but sometimes. Sometimes it just happens and I can’t help it. You should be made aware of that if you plan on continuing -.’ He paused, gestured between them. ‘Whatever this is.’ He had managed to keep his voice formal, to not stutter or shout or anything else. The nails of his left hand were biting into his palm, but he had managed at least some sem-blance of control. The room around him had stopped spinning and Albus’ voice retreated farther to the background. He took another sip of the awful tea and coughed. 

Hermione frowned. ‘How can that be? I mean, thank you for telling me, but how does that even work?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, could be Nagini’s venom, could be overuse of Occlumency, or the Dark Arts or whatever else I used too much of. I just thought you should know. I’m really not a good person to be around, Hermione. For multiple reasons.’ Like the fact that he was now lying. But lies, or half truths rather, were where he had lived for so long. They came easy and never left.

To his surprise she smiled slightly. ‘You never were a good person, as far as I know.’

‘And yet.’ He let the sentence hang between them, cradling the cup of the now chilled tea in his hands.

‘I don’t think you’ll like this much,’ Hermione said, ‘but you are the only person apart from Harry who hasn’t pitied me. Harry also keeps insisting I’m still a witch and it will be all right.’

‘Please, stop comparing me to Potter,’ he bit out. ‘And I never said it will be all right, that’s ridicu-lous.’ He swallowed, trying to choose his words carefully. Part of him wanted to tell her everything, but that was just a small part. He would tell her enough, enough to make her run, he was sure, but enough to allow him to continue this if she wanted to.

‘Narcissa Malfoy knows I’m still alive.’

Hermione’s eyes widened. She placed her cup of tea down with a bang. ‘Narcissa Malfoy? You chose to trust..? That’s who you choose to trust?’

‘Trust didn’t facture into it, ‘ Snape said allowing a hint of annoyance into his voice. She glared at him.

‘There are things you need to understand, Hermione. You need to understand… Here.’ He pulled his wand and aimed it at his hands hoping the non-verbal would work. Slashes of red appeared across his hands and he sighed with relief as Hermione made a surprised sound. It easier to show her. Actions were always easier than words for him.

‘What are you doing? What is that?’

‘You know Priori Incantato?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I used the root from that spell to create this one.’

She slid off the chair and came closer, her face scrunched up in concentration. ‘You made this? What does it do? Can you teach it to me?’

He almost smiled. ‘Yes, I made it. No, I am not teaching you. Anything. Ever again. The spell shows significant passed spells a witch or wizard has cast, it is modestly useful but mostly,’ he glanced at her. ‘Mostly it’s just good for showing off.’

Hermione cocked her head to the side. ‘So, what am I looking at?’

‘Sectumsempra.’

She nodded, looking at the red slashes with curiosity. He shook the spell off and placed it again drenching his hands in black as if he had dipped it in oil. Hermione’s curious look didn’t change.

‘This is Avada Kedavra.’

She only nodded. He felt something inside him relax and had to fight himself not to look at her. He had expected judgement, but perhaps she was all judged out, for tonight at least. That was con-venient, if it were true. He shook the spell off and placed it a third time. This time three snakes of light curled themselves around his hands.

‘Do you know this?’ he asked. Hermione took his hands in hers, frowning.

‘It almost looks like, like an Unbreakable Vow.’ The light around his hands was barely visible but there, but it was there nevertheless. He let her turn his hands around, examine the spell. Her hands were cold.

‘Yes, it is.’

This time she did look up at him, her eyes widened in shock. ‘Did Dumbledore-‘

‘No. Not Albus. He never stooped that low.’

She bit her lip. ‘Then…wait you are not actually telling me you made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcis-sa Malfoy? Why in the actual hell would you ever do that? Why?’

‘It doesn’t matter why,’ he said shaking the spell off. Hermione’s hands stayed on his.

‘So, what? She still has the Unbreakable Vow on you?’

‘No. The conditions of the Vow have been fulfilled.’

‘Then why?’ she pressed.

‘I am showing you this to make you understand. Narcissa is important to me. She... we have an arrangement. That has to do with this bond, indirectly. There are things at play in my life. Things I have no intention of discussing with you but that Narcissa is aware of.’

‘Is she blackmailing you?’

He chuckled. ‘No. I need you to understand to…You need to be aware that there are things going on in my life. If you are...if you wish to continue this acquaintance you cannot ask me about them. I have shown you this, told you about Narcissa Malfoy. That is all you are getting. If this is not acceptable….’ He trailed off, the threat obvious in the silence.

She returned to studying his hands then she looked up at him a question in her eyes. He could guess what she wanted and nodded waiting until her fingers slid up over his arm and rested against the snake and skull lightly.

‘I don’t need to know all your secrets to be friends with you Severus. I am not asking you to tell me everything. I won’t force you to.’

He nodded fighting himself not to jerk his arm away. ‘Good, we understand each other then.’

She smiled softly again. ‘ I think we do.’

‘Good.’

She smiled and released his arm.

He stood. ‘I’ll be off then, it’s late.’

She nodded and walked him to the door, opening it for him. Behind them the black cat slipped into the kitchen and he heard the food dish hit the wall as the animal started eating. It was raining lightly outside and the air smelled clean. He took a deep breath. Hermione stood in the doorframe he glanced at her and saw Lily, angry with him. He willed the image away. This was just a girl in a doorf, no need to get Lily involved in every aspect of his miserable existence.

‘You made a mistake Hermione, a foolish mistake and…I forgive you.’

‘What?’ she asked her voice barely audible.

‘I know I’m the wrong person to say it, but I thought you deserved to hear what it sounds like,’ he said and headed off into the night.

The city was different at night, unfolding before him as if he were inside a rollercoaster, first blackness and then everything at once. He swerved out of the way of a drunken group on bikes and stood, his hands gripping the railing of a bridge. The water below him reflected the lights above. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the rain on his face. He didn’t feel like going home. Home meant sitting alone in the dark with the voices and he wasn’t feeling up to that, not right that second. So, he turned away from the city centre and headed to the RAI instead. The convention centre was a good thirty minute’s stroll away from here and he hoped the walking would clear his head. He was forming a plan, a ridiculous plan, but still a plan that gave him some-thing to do. Her father had been under an obliviate for the past three years. He could figure out how the spell had affected him, could try and lift it. It would mean locating her parents. Hermione had mentioned Australia. It would mean getting his hands on magical texts, spell creation proba-bly. It would mean work.

The rain intensified and he sought shelter under a bridge leaning against a brick wall in the dark-ness. He could do it, he could finally save them all. Back when he was young, standing on that hill with Albus on a night much like this one, saving anyone but Lily had seemed a ridiculous notion. You disgust me. Sometimes he thought that was the only true thing Albus had ever said to him. 

‘The question is, can you do the right thing if that thing has nothing to do with Lily Evans?’ he muttered to himself. He didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t even know if the thing he want-ed to do was the right thing. He looked over his shoulder as if expecting Albus, or at least Albus’ portrait, to be there and answer his questions. But there was no one, of course. Nothing but brick walls and graffiti declaring Tufik’s undying love for a name that was washed away. There was no one to talk to anymore. He was going to have to make these decisions on his own, and he had no idea what the right thing was. All he knew was what he wanted to do, what he thought was right, which probably meant it was wrong. At least it would keep him busy. He shrugged and continued on into the rain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First off I want to thank my wonderful beta for still putting up with me and this story. Also, a huge thanks to those of you who read, review, leave me kudo’s, fave and follow. I am beyond thrilled that there are people out there who like this story. As said, the updates are far and few in between, but I am working on this as much as RL permits. 
> 
> As to this chapter: as I said before, The evening light is un the same ‘universe’ as And now the last only further away in time. As such, Harry and Pansy are together in this fic, unless ANTL pulls a curveball on me and I will have to rewrite this chapter as well. But for now there is some hansy mention in this chapter. 
> 
> Oh and I am following my headcanon, thus Sev is Jewish.

Hermione returned to school the following week. It took one meeting with the Headmistress to work out a schedule that allowed her to continue taking all her classes and still be able to spend a significant amount of time off campus. On the days she was in school her magic listened to her more or less, and she was able to enjoy some of her lessons. On the days she was home, she walked around the city, sometimes alone, usually with Snape. Amsterdam still felt foreign to her. It pushed it’s otherness into her face as if screaming at her that she didn’t belong. The endless maze of canals and biker paths confused her, and sometimes she truly wondered how a city this crowded could still function.

London had been crowded as well, but she knew those crowds and besides, she couldn’t remember the last time she had stepped into Muggle London long enough to feel lost. London was neatly divided, allowing her to divide her life as well. Amsterdam didn’t care. Muggles and wizards lived and worked right on top of each other with no regard for the Statue of Secrecy. If she hadn’t allowed herself to trust Severus, who knew the city well and was at times willing to share the knowledge, she would probably have seen only the street she was living on and the inside of the Dome.

She crossed the street to the café where she had first seen him. It had become their meeting spot, and she waved when she spotted him. She was almost used to seeing him by now. The urge to reach for her wand each time he glared at her had disappeared, as had the urge to sit up straight and shut her mouth. It had been an almost automatic response to him during her school days. 

You made a mistake, you are forgiven. 

Hearing that had actually helped.

He looked up when she reached his table and closed the book he was reading.

‘What’s that?’ Hermione asked, sitting across from him and signalling the waiter.

‘A book,’ he replied, predictably, and when she didn’t react, ‘Hanna Arendt. Why is the waiter coming over? I thought we were leaving.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Healthy reading choice. May I?’ He nodded and she picked up the small volume from the table. ‘We can’t just leave without ordering something, that’s rude.’

Snape rolled his eyes at her. ‘The day you stop caring about what random people find rude will be so liberating. And I never said I was healthy.’

‘Well, I care,’ Hermione said opening the book at random. ‘It’s called being polite.’

He had scribbled something in the margins. She turned a page only to discover more of his handwriting. She smiled and closed the book back up. The feeling of a book in her hands always made her calm and Severus seemed to understand that without her needing to explain. She gave the book back to him, feeling more at ease with herself. She ordered a cappuccino from the waiter and sipped it while Snape glared at her.

‘Being polite is overrated at best, useless at worst. Please, tell me you at least have a destination in mind,’ he said after a pause. She was becoming used to his silences, they didn’t unnerver her, not like the silence in her apartment did. 

‘I was actually thinking we might go someplace you like for a change,’ Hermione said. The cappuccino was not warm enough but she drank it anyway.

Snape sneered at her. ‘Is your guidebook finally out of destinations to offer?’

‘Oh, no. My guidebook has plenty of suggestions. I’m just tired of listening to you complaining about every single one of them.’

His sneer changed into a genuine smile. ‘Fine, if the lady insists.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘You did complain about the last thing we went to.’

‘If I knew that the Anne Frank House was your idea of fun I would have stayed home.’

‘it wasn’t about fun,’ Hermione said. ‘Sometimes there are things you need to see, to learn from them.’

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. ‘I’ve seen enough of those things for one lifetime.’

Hermione put the undrinkable cappuccino down. ‘You all right?’

He made an impatient gesture as if warding off a fly. ‘Headache. I’ll live.’

‘If you’d rather go home.’

‘If I’d rather go home, you’d notice by my apparating away from here,’ he grumbled. ‘Let me just get my coat we’ll go to Albert Cuyp. I need to do my grocery shopping anyway. Plus, it’s nice.’

She smiled when he returned with both his coat and a Slytherin scarf.

‘Get that look off your face, Granger. This is the only scarf I happen to own.’

She raised her eyebrows and followed him outside, zipping up her jacket. ‘Really? You just have this one?’

‘I also have just one neck so that fits quite nicely.’

Hermione sighed. ‘At least I know what to get you for Christmas.’

‘Please, don’t. I don’t need anything.’ To her surprise he looked worried as if the idea of getting presents was somehow offensive. She followed him on to a busy street.

‘Where exactly are we going?’ 

Snape had fallen silent beside her and she was experienced enough by now to know he wouldn’t talk unless prompted.

‘It’s the oldest market in the city. I told you I need groceries.’ He paused glancing at her. ‘It’s a place that is easy to disappear into, does that make sense to you?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, it does.’

‘It’s quite the walk though, from here. You alright with that?’

‘I’m not the one with the headache.’

His faced relaxed, the frown that seemed to be its permanent feature disappeared. ‘I can live with the headache, Hermione.’

‘All right,’ she said, taking his arm. He flinched. ‘Speaking of disappearing, I need a favour.’  
He didn’t react and Hermione let the silence continue until they reached what she assumed was the start of the market. It was indeed easy to get lost here and, at the same time, she liked the business here better. The stalls made the chaos organised and the surroundings were indeed ‘nice’. Old houses flanked market stalls that sold local foods as well as clothes, jewellery, incense.

‘I’m done doing favours for Gryffindors,’ Severus said turning towards a stall filled with herbs.

‘I’m not just a Gryffindor,’ Hermione said.

He smiled. ‘Very astute, usually those of your House have a hard time letting go of the Gryffindor moniker and the privileges it brings.’

She opened her mouth to point out that it was Slytherin House alumni who seemed to have trouble letting go, then closed it again. Snape gave her a look as if he knew exactly what she was about to say and picked up a bag of powdered ginger before walking into the shop that was located at the back of the stall. Hermione lingered behind, waiting until he emerged again holding a small bag with more herbs.

‘I’m asking as a friend,’ she said.

He frowned. ‘You keep insisting we are that. Fine, let’s hear it.’

‘I need a hiding place.’

He stopped walking towards the next stall. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Gabrielle’s family is coming over for Christmas,’ Hermione said examining a display of some kind of sticky waffles. She stepped into the short line and started looking for her wallet. Snape merely grimaced. ‘Bill is also bringing Ginny and Fred with him,’ she continued pushing down on the mix of excitement and fear inside her. She hadn’t seen Ginny since her divorce and had no idea what to expect from her, or George for that matter. Part of her wanted to be just a woman awaiting the arrival of her friends for a lovely Christmas visit, but the other part feared that Ginny would look at her and only see a traitor, a failure who hurt everyone around her, who did not deserve the privilege of friendship. 

When she looked up at Severus again she could see that he had read her face clearly.

‘Too many Weasleys?’ he asked.

She nodded, took the two waffles from the saleswoman and offered one to Severus but he shook his head.

‘I don’t eat those.’

‘Then what do you eat?’ she asked. This wasn’t the first time he refused the food she bought.

‘Anything that doesn’t make me nauseated. So, back to this favour, what is it you need exactly?’

‘I need.’ She paused and swallowed back against the knot in her stomach. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that many people.’

‘What do you think might happen? These are not strangers, they are people you like, at least I assume as much.’

‘That’s exactly why I’m afraid, because they are my friends. They know me and they know what happened and I am tired of answering the same questions. I’m, well you’ve seen how I can get. If I could hide at your place if I feel like I can’t handle them anymore that would be -.‘ She took a bite of her waffle instead of finishing that sentence. If he refused her, she would have to think of something else, a hotel or something. It would mean putting in work, and she doubted she would be able to control her magic if things went wrong and she felt trapped. She also just didn’t want to be alone when -if - things went wrong with Fleur and Fred and Ginny.

‘What questions?’ Snape asked. He was watching her with the kind of focus that unnerved her. ‘You mean about your parents?’

‘I mean divorcing Ron,’ she said. Even this casual mention of her parents stung. ‘Harry and Ron know about my parents, and you do to, now, I suppose, but no one else. They suspect, but, as I don’t talk about it much, no one asks.’ She wasn’t afraid of questions, she realized, she was afraid of the looks. Afraid that people she knew and loved would look at her with pity and sadness and offer advice on how she should best live the life they wanted her to live. She was afraid she would get angry at that, angry enough that it would swallow her and when it did she was afraid there would be no way out of that anger. She would be trapped and alone and hopeless.

‘You realize it’s only November,’ Snape said.

‘I’m planning ahead,’ she said, when Severus stopped in front of a fish seller. ‘Look, if you have Christmas plans, or you don’t want me at your place it’s fine. I’ll figure out something else, I just thought I’d ask.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t have Christmas plans, I’m Jewish.’

‘Chanukah plans, then.’

‘Don’t have those either.’ He frowned. ‘Hiding seems unlike you.’ 

‘Because you know me so well,’ Hermione said. She could feel the anger, never far from her, stirring itself.

‘I don’t,’ Severus said. ‘But take it from someone who is hiding. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘I just need a backup plan in case it gets bad. In case I get bad.’ He paid for the fish and they moved on. Hermione had to walk a couple of steps behind him to allow people to pass her. She bit into her waffle and let the honey coat her tongue.

‘You speak as if you are preparing for a siege instead of Christmas dinner,’ Severus said.

‘If you are going to refuse me, just do it.’

‘I didn’t plan to. I’m just trying to understand your need to run. I understand my own, but yours, well-‘

‘Not everything is an intellectual exercise.’

‘Very well,’ he said with ease. ‘You can text me if you feel the need. I’ll give you my address.   
Will that work?’

Hermione released a breath. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry I snapped.’

‘Don’t be. I pushed, you reacted.’ He paused then turned away from her to examine a stall with fruits and vegetables. ‘Does Ginevra’s coming mean we can also expect Potter?’

It took Hermione a moment to follow that logic but then she shook her head walking into his line of sight. ‘If Harry was coming over, I would lead with that. They broke up, he and Gin, right after the war.’

‘I see,’ Severus said. She let him buy his fruits and vegetables, sensing that he might need a conversation pause. It was the first time he had asked anything about Harry that didn’t involve questions about the memories he left.

‘Can we go back to that stall that had incense?’ she asked when he turned away from the salesman. ‘I might buy some for Gaby.’

He shrugged and started walking back towards the marketplace entrance again.

‘It was bad, their break-up,’ Hermione said when she realized he wasn’t going to talk anymore.

‘And I was so rooting for them,’ Severus said. ‘Potters romantic life has been the highlight of mine.’

‘Then you’ll be happy to know that he has moved on successfully. To Pansy.’

He chuckled. ‘You don’t mean Miss Parkinson?’

‘I do,’ Hermione said, frowning. She didn’t understand his laughter, it seemed an uncharacteristic response. But then Severus wasn’t exactly easy to read. She looked at his eyes and saw sadness there, mixed with concern. 

‘Hmh, I suppose I can see it,’ he said.

‘That makes one of us,’ Hermione said tartly. They reached the stall with incense and she picked up an incense burner in the shape of a little house and examined it. It might make a good gift. ‘She is much the same as she was in school. I for one can’t understand what he sees in her.’ She put the incense burner down again.

‘You don’t like her,’ Snape said. Something in his voice made her look up. He had spoken softly and was now standing very still watching her with narrowed eyes.

‘We are very different. All I had in school were Harry and Ron, and all I had after school was…a mess. And she always had a bunch of girlfriends. She still does, and all they do is talk about dresses and boys and she has no idea what it’s like to be alone and to never fit in, not with anyone, to never know what your roommates are discussing because they never invite you in on their conversation and yes,’ she stopped herself realizing that she was babbling, ‘Yes, I really don’t like her.’

‘And yet, you and Potter are still friends. Despite him being involved with someone you despise?’ He blinked, staring at her intently.

‘Despise is a bit harsh,’ Hermione said. ‘And it’s Harry’s choice, I have to respect that.’

‘You’re still friends,’ Severus repeated.

She nodded ‘He is Harry,’ Hermione smiled ‘I don’t think I could function properly without him. Dating someone I don’t like is hardly a reason to break the friendship. We make it work. He is not happy I’m living here, I’m not happy about his dating choices. I don’t know maybe it’s part of growing up. Though, we never used to agree on everything. I just can’t bear the thought of not having him in my life. He is family, more than family he is -.‘ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘You know how when you wake up in the morning and you are certain you’ll continue breathing and your eyes will work and your legs will carry you? I’m like that with Harry. I know my lungs will function and I know my eyes will see and I know Harry will be there. I don’t know how else to explain it. But girlfriends, boyfriends and life and career choices and whatever, it’s not going to make me stop loving him. Nothing will.’

‘Nothing.’ Severus repeated. He had gone very still and his face had become expressionless. It was like watching a statue form itself in front of her eyes, right out of a living man. She was beginning to feel sorry she brought the subject of Harry up. ‘It must be a nice thing to believe. There are unforgivable things, Hermione. Things no one could forgive.’

He turned away from her but Hermione heard the way his tone changed. She caught up with him, wanting to ask what he meant, but when she looked at him his face was a closed mask and his eyes were sad and thoughtful. The look in them made the questions die in her mouth. She took his arm again and allowed him to lead her away from the marketplace.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you to Colubrina for still putting up with me. I am up to chapter 11 and hoping to get this show on the road again this year. Thank you to those of you who read and those who chose to review.

Chapter 8

Hermione was silent as they crossed the street towards a bus station, then passed by it to follow the curve of a building instead, onwards to another bridge. She followed him easily, willingly, and he found he couldn’t take it, couldn’t bear her calm face, those trusting eyes. He crushed the need to lash out at her when she took his arm again as they crossed a small park. A child, a girl of maybe five, swerved out of their way on her small pink bicycle, the mother calling after her to be careful. The girl cheered and he was reminded of Draco at that age, flying a broom with the same clumsiness the little girl was steering her bike with.

Severus knew the anger he felt was uncalled for, that directing it at Hermione was stupid, and yet he was angry. She didn’t understand. How could she? There were unforgivable things he had done, unforgivable words he had said. Bad decisions had changed the course of his life. 

He clenched his left hand into a fist and caught Hermione looking at him with concern. That only fuelled his anger. Concern would turn to pity and she could take her pity and shove it. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t needed it. And yet, he let her take his arm, let her continue walking beside him. She had seemed sincere when she said nothing could make her stop loving Potter. The look in her eyes, the steadiness in them, had unnerved him and started this mental spiral he knew he wouldn’t be able to control for long.

Potter had won yet again. There was no way that boy would ever experience loss, not with someone like her at his side. If he could hate Potter any more than he already did, he would. 

He saw Lily before him, standing in the doorway as he begged for forgiveness. The words she had said came back to him screaming their truth in his mind. She had made her decision and looked at him that one last time with pity and disgust and then never looked at him again. Anger was holding a knife to his throat, pushing it against his flesh, making rational thought impossible. And beyond that feeling his traitorous mind was asking the question he feared most of all: what if? What if she could have forgiven him? What if nothing would have made Lily Evans stop loving him? What would have happened then? He glared at Hermione and tried steading his breathing.

This was the second time he’d lost control around her. The woman brought out only pain and confusion in him and, yet, he relished the feeling. It was better than the resignation he’d been living with for the past three years. No, not living. Existing. If the choice was that emptiness or this anger, he would chose the anger. 

At least it kept Albus’s voice at bay.

‘Where are we going?’ Hermione asked finally. He could hear the cautious undertone in her voice and he hated her for it.

‘My place,’ he said. ‘Thought you might want to see it if you plan to make it into a hideout.’ 

He knew she wouldn’t return. There was no need to delude himself into thinking that, after today, she would be coming back to spend Christmas Eve with him. The notion was ridiculous. She wouldn’t take comfort in him and he found, to his horror that he wanted her to. No, he thought pushing that complicated feeling aside. It was best to feed her curiosity now and be done with it. Be done with her. He didn’t know if he could take her watching him break one more time. 

He wondered if she would start touching things in his home right away. If she would leave her imprint there, like a swath of ink on a parchment, changing his home forever. He grit his teeth. Best to get it over with. She wouldn’t choose him, not with this undying love for Potter. It was better to end this now and go back to the empty walls of his apartment and the voices from his past. 

He glanced over at Hermione. She was still walking next to him and had started on her second waffle. She looked almost relaxed, only her eyes held a mixture of concern and curiosity. She looked up at him and he saw sadness in those eyes as well.

‘What does Potter know about your parents?’ He found himself asking the question before he realized what he was doing. Was he truly still in competition with the boy, like Albus had once suggested? He was better than Black. He knew the boy wasn’t his father and yet he couldn’t help himself. Hermione didn’t flinch, didn’t tell him to mind his own business. Only her fingers trembled slightly, but when she answered her voice was calm. He couldn’t help admiring her. 

‘He knows about as much as you do, Ron told him some things I’d rather he hadn’t. I told him the rest.’

‘And he isn’t out there on a rescue mission?’ Severus asked, cursing himself. There was no need for these questions, not when he knew the outcome of her little visit to his home already. Not when he knew she would drop him as soon as Potter whistled for her to return. Who was feeding whose curiosity? He closed his eyes against the pain in his head that was still bothering him and bit down on more questions. 

Hermione smiled, her eyes that had been cold one minute turned warm now as if the mere recollection of Potter fixed something inside her. ‘He wanted to be on a rescue mission, as you say, but I stopped him.’

Snape blinked. ‘You don’t want help?’ he asked. If that was the case, the half-formed plan in his head would need to die. It would need to die anyway, perhaps, if she left. Although her leaving didn’t necessarily mean he shouldn’t offer whatever assistance he could to the Grangers. It was…well, it was the right thing to do as far as he could reason.

Hermione shrugged. He could see the seemingly innocuous gesture hid a lot of things she didn’t want to talk about. ‘My mother doesn’t want any more magic used on my dad, which I understand. She’s….she doesn’t want me or my friends near him. She said it hurt too much getting her own memories back, and she doesn’t want to put him through the same.’

‘I see,’ he said. They had reached the building that held his apartment and he froze suddenly, unable to move. She would see everything, or near enough if he continued on this ridiculous mission. There had been only one magical visitor in this place before her, and he hadn’t been as afraid of that one seeing his life. But she hadn’t betrayed him. Not yet, Potter was one phone call away, a phone call she could make any time, but she hadn’t. Her teachers, her friends - both the ones here and back in Britain - remained oblivious to his existence. If he trusted her words, she could have betrayed him years ago and she hadn’t. He swallowed, finding his breathing become easier and lead her towards the building and up the stairs to his flat. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was closer to letting someone in than he had done in years. His hands were sweaty and he felt sixteen again in all the ways sixteen had been bad for him. 

‘Brian Bishop,’ she said curiously, examining the mailbox as he placed the key in the lock. ‘Why Brian Bishop?’

‘What did you expect?’ he asked opening the door for her. She hesitated on the stairs looking around her as if trying to put the building to memory stone by stone.

‘Maybe, Tobias Prince.’

He felt a shudder run down his back. ‘Where in the seven hells did you pick up that name?’

She gave him an apologetic look. ‘While researching the Half-Blood-Prince,’ she said.

‘I see. And what did your research yield? You going to stand there by the way, or are you going to come in?’

‘I wasn’t sure I was allowed,’ Hermione said. ‘And not much, just the names of your parents and some pictures. I like Brian Bishop better.’

He followed her into his small hallway and closed the door behind them. ‘Hell will freeze over before I ever consider using ‘Tobias Prince’. Brian was one of Albus’s more sane names. And I like bishops. On a chess board they move steadily and are important without being the centre of attention and, besides, pawn seemed a bit dramatic.’ He smiled bitterly and caught her smiling back.

‘You want me to take my shoes off?’

‘No need,’ he said. ‘Living room is through there.’ He pointed to the closed door in front of him. ‘Bathroom is the door to your left. I’ll be right back.’ He turned from her, picked up the bag of groceries, and went into the kitchen. Behind him, he heard her opening the door to the living room, then nothing. He placed the bag on the kitchen table and walked over to the window opening it to let some air in. It felt as if he was in a movie that had been placed into slow motion, everything he did, every small movement felt magnified and stretched out as if time itself decided to torment him now, slowing down and making his inevitable return to the living room into a life long mission. His head was starting to hurt badly now, and he could see spots of color when he closed his eyes. It was better than seeing Lily’s face, though. He placed his forehead against the window glass and tried to listen for movement, but couldn’t hear anything. She would be walking around in his space, touching things by now, asking her millions of questions. He could give her no answers. This was what he was. He had no idea how to change himself. 

The thought of her being here was enough to make him nauseated and yet, at the same time, offered a sliver of comfort. Comfort scared him more than the headache and the anger could ever do. His chest compressed painfully and he was back at Hogwarts. It was the day he had spent hanging upside down by his ankles, trying desperately to stop a spell of his own invention, trying not to hear the laughter around him, and trying not to cry. He’d failed at all three because of this same burning anger.

‘Control your emotions,’ he murmured bitterly to himself and felt the coolness of Occlumency descend on his mind. His headache increased but the pain was worth it. He unpacked his food, steadily, methodically, while building the wall in his mind brick by brick the same way he had done since he was a teenager, closing away Lily’s face, Potter’s glasses, and Black’s sneer. He took in a shuddering breath placed the fish he had bought in the cooler, washed his hands and stepped out of the kitchen and into his living room.

Hermione was sitting on a corner of the only armchair in the room, her elbows on her knees and her eyes fixed on a shelf in one of his cabinets, the only other things in the room beside the chair she was sitting in. She turned to look at him when he entered. It did not appear that she had moved at all, let alone touch anything in the room. He blinked at her.

‘You have no furniture,’ she said without accusation. ‘No furniture, but you moved your jars?’ She pointed at the cabinets. One was filled with books. The other held what she had called ‘his jars’.

‘For your information, some of the samples in these jars are priceless. It took me a long time to collect them. I saw no reason to part with them.’ He walked over to the window, planning to sit on the windowsill as he usually did then stopped and glanced at her again. ‘I suppose I should offer you some beverage or food of some kind.’

‘That would be the polite thing to do,’ Hermione said, her eyes twinkling. ’And yes, I totally get it. If I died, I would also take...’ She stood up to examine the jars more closely. ‘Salamander eyes and this thing that looks like guts along into death with me. Makes sense.’ 

He decided to take the teasing, it was easier than what he had prepared for. She took in a breath and went still suddenly as she continued to look over his specimens. ‘Is that a phoenix feather?’

‘Yes,’ he said, and sat on the windowsill. ‘You are hardly the first visitor from the past I had in this apartment,’ Severus said. He was watching the street outside. His apartment was on the third floor and that left him with a pretty decent view of the street and the people below.

‘Fawkes?’ Hermione asked. Her voice shook.

‘Yes,’ Severus said and closed his eyes. ‘I came home one day, not long after I found this place, and he was just sitting in front of my door.’ He remembered the shock he had felt seeing the bird. He had been questioning whether staying in Amsterdam was the right thing. Back then the city had seemed loud and complicated to him. He was still recovering from the snake bite, and more, from the shock of not being dead. He had been in bad shape, worse than now. Fawkes looked at him, made his melodic sound and flew away leaving a feather, all before Severus could even move. He still didn’t know what to make of the visit, but he knew it had convinced him to stay in the city and make a home of this place.

‘I thought he died,’ Hermione said. Severus opened his eyes to glare at her. She had moved away from the cabinet and was standing in front of him, her arms crossed protectively, watching him. 

‘He is a phoenix, Hermione. I don’t think death is really an option for him.’

‘And he just found you?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess. I have a complicated relationship with that bird, as I did with his master.’  
He saw no resentment in Hermione’s expression and he found himself wondering what it was she was seeing in these empty walls. He closed his eyes again. If he were not careful he would start seeing his home through her eyes and then he would be lost. 

‘You look awful,’ she said suddenly.

‘Why, thank you.’

‘Is it your head?’ There was concern in her voice.

He nodded.

‘You want me to leave?’

‘Suit yourself.’ 

‘Do you have a painkiller? I could get you one.’

He raised a hand stopping her. ‘’There’s no need, Hermione.’ Muggle painkillers wouldn’t work against this headache, he knew, and magical ones mixed badly with Occlumency. He could try lowering the wall he had built, but he didn’t think himself ready for that yet. Hermione glanced at him.

‘I could make us both tea and maybe something to eat for you.’

‘I’d rather you stay out of my kitchen,’ he said.

‘And I’d rather not stand here helplessly while you are in pain.’

‘Sometimes there is no helping pain.’

She pursed her lips together. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t try.’

He smiled at that. ‘Gryffindor through and through. And here I was wondering why the hat didn’t place you in Ravenclaw.’

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. ‘The hat considered Ravenclaw and you are trying to change the subject. How can I help?’

 

‘’You can’t. That must be torture for you.’ He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Her face hardened and she took a step away from him cradling her maimed arm.

‘Hermione-‘

‘You need food. You hardly ever eat and then you expect yourself to not have headaches. Come on, show me where everything is in your kitchen.’

‘You don’t need to do this.’

‘And yet here I am doing it,’ she said. He followed her marching steps into the kitchen and sat at the table. The pain was close to unbearable now and with a sigh he started to remove the Occlu-mency wall. He saw no choice, keeping the spell up was becoming impossible and he had enough practise to know that if the spell fell all at once he would be in worse shape. Besides, if he lost con-trol of his magic now he could end up hurting the woman in his kitchen. He would be forced to accept her help and he couldn’t have that no matter how much his heart might want it. He could not have it because he wanted it. The things he wanted ended up dead and he couldn’t have her dead.

‘There are teacups in the left cupboard,’ he said. Hermione hadn’t moved, she was just examining the kitchen with an air that reminded him strongly of Poppy. ‘Bread is in the cupboard next to it. Take whatever you want.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘I’ll take tea if you can possibly make it without drowning it in sugar.’

‘You need to eat.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Right away. As you wish.’

‘I mean it, Severus,’ she said gently. ‘You should eat, or lay down in a dark room or something.’ Her shoulders were still stiff and her posture looked like that of a warrior preparing for battle but her words sounded calm enough. He didn’t want to know how much effort that took. He felt the same flutter of admiration again and crushed it.

‘And what will you do?’

She shrugged, opened her mouth to say something when her eye fell on a plaque that was hanging over the kitchen table. She moved closer to examine it.

‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘It’s the only useful thing Eileen left me.’

Hermione glanced at him and then back to the plaque again. He knew the power the words on it held even to those who could not read them. He remembered his mother’s fingers cradling the black frame in her hands as she explained the meaning of the words to him. He had been a child back then and Eileen had still been capable of caring for him.

‘It’s called the Shema-prayer,’ he said when Hermione frowned and leaned closer to the words. ‘Observant Jews recite it daily.’ He swallowed and started working on lowering the Occlumency wall for real. ‘It’s also known as the Death prayer. According to Eileen, these words are supposed to be the last thing one says before committing one’s soul to God.’

‘Can you read it?’ Hermione asked.

‘No. But I know them from memory,’ His headache was clearing a little and he was able to notice that she looked upset.

‘You all right?’

‘Is she dead? Your mother?’ Hermione asked. He saw the underlying question.

‘She died last year. It’s different for me, Hermione. You care for your parents, you want to mend your relationship with them, you mourn your actions towards them. That’s understandable, but I have no such feelings for Eileen and Tobias. Don’t search for comparisons here. I don’t see Eileen and Tobias as parents. They were just people I grew up with. I know that must be difficult to understand for you but, please, don’t ask me about them and don’t search for meaning where there is none.’

Hermione turned to him. ‘I won’t just…last year? She died after you... after you came here?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Eileen died believing me to be dead, believing me to be...’ He swallowed. ’Well, everyone knew about Dumbledore. Even her.’ 

He hated how much that admission hurt. Eileen had stopped being a mother when he was a small child. He had no problem letting her believe he had died. In fact, he had insisted Narcissa keep her in the dark. Yet, the thought she had died not knowing the truth about him was painful in a way he had no desire to examine. He didn’t need her approval or care about her condemnation.

He took over preparing the tea. He really didn’t want Hermione touching his things and he felt a little better now. He set the kettle on the stove and pulled two teacups from the cupboard.

‘You want food?’

‘I had food at the market,’ she said. ‘Harry says you weren’t responsible.’ She spoke quickly, the words almost tumbling over each other. He felt the sting of hearing Potter’s name in this house so acutely that he had to put the kettle down, afraid his hands would shake too badly.

‘If saint Potter says so,’ he bit out but Hermione stopped him.

‘I am sorry, you are not feeling well, we don’t have to discuss this right now. How is your head? You look less pale.’

He poured tea for them, frowning. ‘No, discuss it. It’s why you’re here isn’t it?’

‘I am here because you let me be here,’ Hermione said slowly. She gave him a long look then sat up straight and crossed her legs. ‘We can discuss Dumbledore another time.’

He turned sharply to her, the kettle dangling from his hand water spilling everywhere. ‘I-‘ He had no idea how to finish that sentence. He could tell her how much he didn’t want to do it, how even on top of the tower he had to conjure all his willpower. But that felt like an excuse. He knew how Avada Kedavra worked, he had performed the spell successfully and therefore he must have wanted the old man dead. Draco hadn’t been able to, Draco would never have been able to. 

He looked at the woman at his kitchen table, at the strength in her face, her set jaw, her miraculous pity-free eyes, at the scars she hid. ‘I am not a murderer.’ The words felt like a prayer, like begging. 

Hermione leaned on her hand, her posture relaxing slightly, and she let out a breath.

‘I know, Severus. I know that.’


End file.
